


Anything for Family

by sum_nemo



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Erebor Never Fell, But like actually how did Dwalin grow up with Balin and never learn how to use his words, Cultural Exploration, Dwarfish cultural explorations, F/M, Forced Marriage, Gender politics, In which Dwalin is a shitty communicator, M/M, Ori is just too cute, Sexual politcs, class examination, class politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sum_nemo/pseuds/sum_nemo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thirteen is the unlucky number for the criminal who can't learn, and Nori is all out of chances. His thirteenth theft means his punishment is the loss of an arm. Ori, fearing for his brother, begs the captain of the guard, saying he'd do anything, anything at all, to save his brother. Dwalin says he'll let Nori go in exchange for Ori himself. Ori, thinking he's trading a night in a seedy inn for his brother's arm, agrees. What he didn't expect after Nori had been let go, was for Dwalin to braid a marriage bead into Ori's hair and take the scribe home with him.</p><p>Ori finds himself having breakfast with princes and kings, working a new job with the best in his field, and trying to navigate a relationship with a guardsman who has more power over Ori's life and happiness than either of them want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anything

**Author's Note:**

> Filling my own prompt on the K meme. :P  
> It's unbeta'd so I'm sorry for any mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filling my own prompt on the K meme. :P  
> It's unbeta'd so I'm sorry for any mistakes.

Ori walked quickly through the streets, stuggling against the current of foot traffic. As most people returned home from the marketplace, Ori made his way towards it with purpose. At the edge of the market was the guardhouse, and attached to the guardhouse was the jail. Ori had heard from the Olaf that Nori had been caught stealing again. Olaf, who was the son of Ori’s former scribe master, was always keeping Ori up to date on town gossip even though Ori’s apprenticeship had ended well over two years ago. At times Ori found it to be grating, but as he hurried to pay his brother’s bail, he felt very grateful to the lad who couldn’t keep to his own business. 

 

The young scribe had stopped his work immediately upon hearing the news. He gave Olaf a copper bit for his troubles, then ran off to find Dori. His eldest brother had just sighed and opened the chest containing their meagre savings. Once again the money Ori had hoped to put towards new clothes was instead going to pay Nori’s bail. 

 

Feeling guilty, Ori banished any selfish thoughts from his mind. _If I’d not been born, Da wouldn’t have left. Nori just lacked a good role model, that’s all. Dori was too young to be as strong for Nori as he’s been for me,_ Ori thought as he weaved through the crowd. Dori would never say as much, of course. He’d only ever comment on Nori’s moral failings as Nori’s own problem. The one time Ori brought up his own role in his father’s disappearance Dori had cried; Ori never spoke of it again, but he thought of it the last eight times he’d gone to the guardhouse to pay Nori’s bail. At first only Dori went to retrieve Nori, than Ori came along as well, then Ori started going alone. Dori had stricter hours to keep at work, so Ori was the only one available to fetch his brother at odd hours.

 

The main square was all but empty. The tail-end of the business day was coming to a close; apprentices were sweeping out front of their masters’ stalls, shutters were being locked and tables put away. The guardhouse was on the other side of the market square. It was an imposing building, large grey stones filed flat to make climbing up or down the walls difficult. The iron bars were that covered the windows were as strong as any dwarf could make them. The city guardsmen loitered outside, smoking and twirling their axes and clubs ominously. 

 

The jailhouse was built in much the same manner, though it had fewer windows. It was longer than the guardhouse, and attached by a narrow windowless hallway. Ori had walked through that narrow hall many times before to see his brother lying in a cell. There was one memorable time when his brother was strung up on the wall. That time he’d picked the pocket of the guild-master of the diamond cutters. Ori had to forfeit the earnings of two illustrated manuscripts, earnings which he’d hoped to use to buy a house in a nice area of town. But Nori’s life was worth more than a house, and Ori knew his elder brother would wither away to nothing behind bars if left for too long.

 

The guards outside leered as Ori walked past. They were all lower ranking guards, and probably the less skilled ones at that. The night shift was always run by the drunks and slackers. They weren’t the ones who needed to put on a good face for the merchants. Ori allowed himself to feel annoyed at Nori for not having the good grace to get arrested during the day shift. While still rough, they at least were polite. Ori hoped that he’d get to deal with a lieutenant or sergeant rather than a foot soldier. 

 

The higher ranking guards were usually brought in from members of the nobility and had the manners to match. They at least pretended to have respect for Ori and his coin. A few years back there was sergeant assigned to this division who was a cousin through Ori’s mother. He’d brought Nori home the first few times Nori had been caught, and pretended he’d never seen the youth. For all none of his mother's kin acted like they knew the three brothers, that sergeant had always been kind in his pretence of ignorance of their relation. Ori knew the guardsman was the youngest son of his mother’s older brother, though no one officially acknowledge it. The guard would make his excuses, that Nori seemed too young to understand his actions, and Dori would pretend the sergeant wasn’t acting out of pity for their mother’s disgrace. It had been a sad day when that guard had been transferred to another division. 

 

Ori twisted as he entered through the main doors, avoiding the hands reaching out to touch him. He knew very well what his youth meant to men like these, since Nori and Dori were always warning him about it. 

 

Once inside Ori looked around for someone who liked like they were in charge. The walls were lit with torches which gave off a stinging smoke. Ori wrinkled his nose as he surveyed the desks in the main hall. Some men quietly filled out paperwork as others slept unashamedly at their desks.

 

“There’s no way around it. The law is strict, and this punishment can’t be exchanged for coin as lesser ones can. Thirteen strikes is the unlucky number for the fool who can’t learn,” A deep voice said from down the hall. Ori walked towards the voice unobstructed. The guards who were awake recognized him from previous visits.

 

“Aye, but need we do it tonight? It’ll create such a mess and we’ll need to get a healer so the man doesn’t bleed out,” another voice said.

 

“It’s best to get it over with. Having the dwarrow spend the night knowing what waits for him come dawn is cruel,” the deep voice replied. _Dwalin,_ Ori thought to himself, finally recognizing the voice. He was the captain of the whole city guard. He was a fine specimen of dwarfish nobility; he was the younger son of the main branch of the Longbeard clan. Ori’d caught himself staring at the man once or twice when he came to collect Nori. He was attractive, well muscled, tall, with a long beard. The top of his head was shaved to show off his very impressive tattoos. He was as cold and hard as the stone dwarves surrounded themselves in. He had little love for the criminals he meted punishment out to, and openly showed his disdain for Nori on the last occasion their paths had crossed. 

 

 _He did stare so when I paid Nori’s bail the time before last. I suppose he wanted to figure out what illegal activities I’d been up to that I could pay such a high bail,_  Ori thought to himself as he walked slowly down the corridor between the guardhouse and the jail.

 

 _The captain also made a rather amusing face when I told him how I’d earned it. After that he’s always watched me in the streets. Maybe he wonders how I turned out the way I did coming from the family I do._ Ori stopped that train of thought when he could make out Nori’s figure bound on the floor in front of him. Nori was kneeling and hunched over to hide his face. His hair, however, made identifying him quite easy even in the dimly lit and smoky prison.

 

Ori emerged from the tunnel to see Dwalin with his axe in hand, and another guard setting up a wooden block. Ori could feel his insides turn inside out. _It can’t be for what I think it is._

 

Dwalin looked up at Ori and asked roughly “What are ye doin here?”

 

“I - well - I’ve come to pay Nori’s bail. How much is it this time ‘round?” Ori said. He kept his head down out of respect for Dwalin’s status.

 

“Your brother is to pay with his left arm, not coin, this time,” The second guard said with a sneer. 

 

“His - his arm!” Ori cried out looking to his older brother. 

 

 _“_ Aye,” Dwalin said, sounding almost apologetic. He looked at the wall behind Ori’s shoulder as he continued, “And the guards up front should have stopped ye from coming back here, since yer bail money means nothing tonight.”

 

 _With only one arm there is no hope of Nori entering a civil trade. He could never be a craftsman or a soldier with only one arm! And if it cost him his left arm this time around, what about the next time he get caught?_  

 

Ori felt like vomiting. Nori shrunk up into himself when the other guard spoke. In a quiet voice, almost too quiet to hear, Nori said, “You’d best leave Ori. This ain’t the sort of thing I’d have you see. I’ll make my way home once it’s done.”

 

“I can’t just leave you!” Ori replied, wiping his shaking hands against his cardigan. Dwalin followed the movement of Ori’s hands with his eyes, then looked up at Ori’s face.

 

“You can and you will. Dori will have my hide if you see blood spilled,” Nori said with a grimace. _I suppose he thinks he smiling as he does when he lies about where the money for dinner came from_ , Ori thought sadly.

 

Ori looked at his brother for a long moment as the guard left to get towels. His mind raced, trying to figure out how to save Nori. While he stood there he could feel Dwalin staring at him. _The nobility are made of flesh and blood just as the common guards are_ , Ori thought, remembering the times he’d been offered a pass on paying bail in exchange for a night at a shady inn. Ignoring the other guards and criminals that would play audience to his offer, Ori reached out for Dwalin’s arm. 

 

“Please mister Dwalin. I don’t have a lot of family and I can’t - I can’t watch Nori hurt like that. Please. I’d do anything, _anything_ to have him pardoned.”

 

It was the first time in his life Ori had hoped someone would act immorally, that someone could fail his expectations. A rough night with Dwalin, well, it would heal. Bruised, cuts, and tears all heal with time as a lost arm does not. _Dori always says time fades even the worst memories. A night with Dwalin would fade from my memory in time. At least he’s not ugly like the guards standing outside_. _He’s never been cruel without cause, which is more than the rest can say,_ Ori thought to himself.

 

 _Waiting till marriage was only a foolish daydream. Marriage isn’t likely, not with mum’s reputation hanging over my head._ Ori reassured himself. Dreams of rising above his station in life were common, and ones Nori and Dori had refused to crush. _It would have been kinder of them to remind me to be realistic, rather than have me crush my dreams all on my own._

 

Dwalin looked around for a moment, then back at Ori. “Ye. If ye give me yerself, I’ll forget I’ve ever seen yer brother before this night.” 

 

It was a painful relief to know that Dwalin could have the moral failings of any other dwarf. Ori nodded and cringed to hear the crude comment the other guard made. Nori’s head shot up and he looked as desperate as Ori felt.

 

“Ori, you shouldn’t have to - You can’t agree to that! I won’t let you. This is my mess and I’ll pay for it with my own blood, not yours.” 

 

“A deal’s a deal Nori. You’ll have to tell Dori I won’t be home for a while,” Ori said in a flat voice. Dwalin grabbed Nori by the back of his shirt and dragged him forward with one arm, and gently led Ori back to the guardhouse with his other hand. He guided Ori to the stairs and said “Second door on the left is my office. Ye know yer letters so ye should be able to read which room it is” 

 

Ori didn’t stay to see Nori thrown out the front door. He made his way into the office and stood by the desk. There was a roaring fire in a fireplace along the back of the wall. The heat it gave off did little for the shivers that ran up Ori’s spine. After a few minutes Dwalin came up the stairs with a sheaf of papers in his hands.

 

“Yer brother’s file,” he said, handing it to Ori. The younger dwarf flipped through the papers quickly. It was an embarrassingly large stack detailing Nori’s thefts and cons. Only one page had any mention of unjustified violence. Dwalin took them out of Ori’s hands when the scribe was done with them, then tossed them into the fireplace. “It’ll be like he’s never been here before,” Dwalin assured him gently.

 

 _Mahal. This would be easier if Dwalin were to be rough_ Ori thought, unsure of how to act. _At least this is well worth the price. Nori starting anew is more than I’d hoped for, and is kinder than Dwalin needed to be. Maybe this night won’t be so terrible_.

 

Dwalin reached out towards Ori, and the scribe closed his eyes. Instead of the hand touching his body or tugging at his clothes, it went straight for his hair. _Is he - is he braiding my hair?_ Ori questioned, opening his eyes. Dwalin’s face was closer than he’d expected. The guard wore a soft expression as he wove Ori’s hair into a complicated braid. It culminated in him ending the braid with a mithril bead. _A marriage bead,_ Ori noted as he became faint. Blood rushed to his head and the nausea from earlier returned full force.

 

Ori had to focus on what Dwalin was saying to hear over the sound of his own heartbeat and the ringing in his ears. Dwalin spoke some words in Khuzdul that Ori never thought he’d have spoken to him by someone of Dwalin’s standing. The captain held out another mithril bead to him and Ori performed the appropriate response. He only knew the words because Dori had drilled them into his head in some vain hope that Ori’s profession might redeem him to society the way Dori’s almost had.

 

Ori looked at the braid he’d formed in Dwalin’s hair, not entirely in control of his body as he stuttered out the acceptance speech in Khuzdul. Dwalin smiled softly and unexpectedly. Ori tried to return the gesture, though he knew any smile he gave would betray the shock he felt. Dwalin looked at him for a moment more, then tugged on his arm.

 

“C’mon,” was all he said. Ori followed with quick small steps. Dwalin kept one hand gently wrapped around Ori’s wrist as they walked through the streets of Dale. They walked the wrong way from Ori’s house, towards the imposing gates of Erebor. _Of course he lives in the mountain, nobles rarely live above ground_ , Ori thought to himself. Poorer dwarves often live topside since space was limited below the mountain. Lessons learned from Moria stopped recent kings from digging too deep. Between the prosperity and the peace brought by the line of Durin, the population had boomed two generations ago. Many dwarves had sold their property for more than it had been worth when they bought it, or had been forced to sell their homes by pushy wealthy merchants. 

 

Ori had only been inside the mountain a few times to deliver manuscript to wealthy families, or on one momentous occasion, the great library. Ori allowed himself to be led by Dwalin as he took in the sights of the mountain. Like any other dwarf a feeling of rightness settled into his bones when he entered the mountain. Rock above and below was something all dwarves could feel with their entire body. 

 

The feeling Ori got retrieving root vegetables from their small basement couldn't compare to the increasing rightness he felt as he walked deeper into the mountain. He read the signs declaring where the various paths lead as Dwalin lead him down a large hall. Some signs displayed street names, indicating the roads lead to the neighbourhoods of guildsmen, higher ranking miners and lower nobles. Other showed the paths lead to specific mine shafts, or to the ramparts where guards kept watch. Eventually they came to a path that clearly indicated it was the street of kings, the living quarters of the royal family and their closest friends. There were guards standing at the crossroads, wearing better armour than any city guard would. Dwalin began to guide him down that street and Ori felt his feet turn to lead. 

 

He stopped in his tracks, staring at the street sign. The hysteria that had begun to fade when Dwalin braided the bead into his hair rose to a new level.

 

“Y’alright lad?” Dwalin asked, looking him up and down.

 

“I - I can’t be here. It wouldn’t be - right - well - it’s not proper, is it? Not with my mum being - ah,” Ori tried to explain what Dwalin had clearly either forgotten, or never known.

 

“Yer with me. Anyone who says otherwise will answer to me,” Dwalin said angrily, his hand tightening on Ori’s wrist. Ori looked down at his unmoving feet and didn’t reply.

 

“Besides, if they’ve got too high a rank for me to thump them, I can always have Thorin give ‘em a talking to,” Dwalin said in a softer voice, loosening his grip. He tugged Ori’s arm gently, and once again Ori followed Dwalin.

 

“Thorin? As in Thorin Oakenshield, heir to the throne?” Ori squeaked.

 

“Aye. Though really he’s king in all but name since Thror’s mind is passing on before his body. He’s a bit young, but Thrain, well,” Dwalin didn’t need to finish that sentence. The whole kingdom had heard of Thrain’s downfall. Thorin’s mother had been killed by a horde of Orcs that attacked her traveling party. She returning from a visit with her family in the Iron Hills, and Thrain’s mind hadn’t survived the hearing the news. They’d found pieces of the Orc’s bodies for weeks before finding what remained of Thrain’s body.

 

“Why would Thorin tell someone off for speaking what everyone knows is true about me and my -”

 

“Because yer mine. And a word against you is a word against me, and I’ve been friends with Thorin since he began to learn the sword. I teach his nephews the craft of warfare. His family is my family, and now yers. Ye certainly know how families protect their own”

 

“Not those who bring ‘em shame,” Ori retorted. Dwalin looked at Ori in surprise and didn’t reply for a while. They passed some rather grand doors made of stone gilded with silver and gold. Sapphires and rubies spelled out the names of the inhabitants. 

 

“Only broken families kick those who’re down. And I’ve seen ye bring Nori home often enough from jail or from pubs to know ye don’t much care what kinda shame he brings,” Dwalin replied angrily and Ori decided it was for the best to stop talking. 

 

Eventually they came to a door that proclaimed the Sons of Fundin lived within. Dwalin unlocked the left door with an ornate key he pulled from his pocket, and pushed it open. He let go of Ori’s arm and gently pushed him inside. Dwalin kept his hand on the small of Ori’s back as they walked past a main living area, then past the kitchen, to a hall of bedrooms. 

 

“We don’t keep servants. I’ve never had the patience for all that bowing and scraping, and Balin’s often away on diplomatic business. He has someone come in to clean occasionally when he’s home, but unless he’s gone for a long stay I don’t bother.”  Dwalin explained as he looked at the line of doors thoughtfully.

 

“We usually take dinner at a pub, or with Thorin’s family. If ye can cook we’ll eat at home more often,” Dwalin seemed to have come to a decision because he began to guide Ori down the hall. 

 

“I’m half good at cooking,” Ori said in a small voice. The more Dwalin spoke, the more the permanency of the situation sunk in. One door was open at the end of the hall. The floor was a mess of clothes. The walls, however, neatly hosted a slew of weapons and armour. _Dwalin’s room,_ Ori thought, bracing himself for what would be the first of many with the older dwarf. To his surprise he wasn’t guided into that room. Instead the door to the room across the hall was pushed open and Ori was lead inside. 

 

The bed was neatly made, and was larger than the one Ori had at home. A wooden desk was placed under a large window on the opposite wall. The glass covering the opening was the thin stuff, which let light in without warping it. Ori’s room at home had one pane boarded over with wood, with the other three covered in thick grimy glass.

 

“The bed shouldn’t be dusty. Dis stayed over after a fight with her former mother-in-law two weeks ago. I can’t say as much for the shelves and desk though. But that’s work for the morning,” Ori moved to the bed and sat down on it, looking up at Dwalin. Ori took off his mittens and placed them on the bedside table, then fidgeted with the hem of his cardigan. Dwalin reached out and stroked Ori’s newest braid.

 

“I’ll see ye in the morn, then,” Dwalin said awkwardly. The older dwarf briefly placed his hand on Ori’s cheek before he left. After a long time sitting in silence Ori pulled himself all the way into the bed. He brought the covers up over his head just as he’d done when nightmares wouldn’t leave as a child. _What just happened?_ Ori asked himself. He couldn’t find an answer that made any sense. The only answer he had was _I’ve married Dwalin, Son of Fundin, captain of the realm’s guardsmen._ Though that answer raised more questions. _If I’m to live here, will I ever see Dori again? How long before Dwalin leave me, as da left mum? Why me - between Nori and the rest - why would he choose me?_ These questions and more ran through Ori’s mind at an increasingly frantic rate. Eventually they overwhelmed him and he began to cry. Ori shoved his fist into his mouth to keep the noise down, a trick he’d learned when he’d realized how upset Dori was to see him cry. Ori cried until he had nothing left, then curled up and fell into a dreamless sleep.


	2. The Morning After

Ori awoke to the sound of his door thumping.

 

“Five more minutes, Dori!” he whined.

 

“Ye’ve got a meeting with Dis soon. We’re goin’ over for breakfast, and she said she’d school ye in how to run a household” Dwalin replied. Ori couldn’t make out any emotion in his voice, though hearing it caused him to sit up quickly in shock. The events of the night before ran through his mind as he took in his surroundings.

 

“I’ll -” Ori felt his throat begin to close as the tears threatened to return, “I’ll be out in a moment.” 

 

Ori made his bed and attempted to straighten out his clothes, and examined the room he had slept in. The morning light streamed in from the windows that lined the top of one wall and made the quality in the room more apparent. The walls opposite the bed were lined with shelves full of book. The wooden desk and chair that Ori had noticed the night before were certainly of better quality than his desk at home. The wood was decorated with gold paint, and the handles to the desks’ drawers made of large jewels set in bronze. Ori smoothed out his cardigan one last time, then left the room to meet Dwalin.

 

 _What would the children who taunted me about my mother think now?_ Ori thought as he walked into the hall. _I never asked for this and I certainly don’t want it, but it is a better marriage than I’d ever dreamed I could make._ Upon seeing Dwalin’s armed figure down the hall his fears from before came to mind. _Why marry me? No one of importance takes note of the trysts of guardsmen. Maybe the nobles have a much stricter code about men sleeping with others outside the marriage bed? But he hasn’t taken me into his bed yet._ Ori didn’t know enough about the habits of nobledwarrows to answer his own questions. He pushed the thoughts from his mind, and resolved to focus on more practical matters, like figuring out what Dwalin expected of him.

 

Ori studied Dwalin’s figure as he approached his new husband. Dwalin was armed as he usually was, with two axes and a hammer strapped to his back. Oddly, he seemed to be wearing cleaner clothes than Ori had seen him in before, and his knuckle dusters were shinier than the night before. 

 

“I’ll leave some coin with Dis to take ye for some new clothes,” Dwalin said upon seeing Ori. The younger dwarf looked down, a little hurt by Dwalin’s comment on the state of his clothes. He ignored the part of his brain that reminded him he had been saving up for new clothes. Ori was wearing one of his better cardigans that he’d knit himself over the summer, and it was a sweater he was proud of. Ori made a neutral noise in response. Dwalin reached out and grabbed Ori’s wrist as he had the night before. Once again Ori was shocked by Dwalin’s gentleness: Ori could easily have pulled away from hand around his wrist if he chose to. Dwalin seemed to be more concerned with guiding Ori than keeping him from running away. Dwalin guided Ori out of his home and down the street, nodded as they passed guardsmen on patrol. He led Ori to a door laden with sapphires and onyx and stopped. Jewelled writing declared that the daughter of Thrain lived behind these doors. Ori felt his knees go weak. These weren’t the sort of people he was meant to associate with.

 

Dwalin knocked on the door, and within moments a brunette with delicate features opened the doors. He looked around Ori’s age, though he had few braids of accomplishment in his hair. His only braids seemed to be family braids, and braids showing his skill with a weapon. Ori recognized it as the braiding of a bow-dwarrow. He then thought to himself that  his knowledge of skill braids was flawed, since no heir of Durin would ever take up the bow.

 

“Dwalin! What took you so long? Mother won’t start breakfast till everyone’s here, and uncle’s hit my hand twice for trying to grab some of her sweet-buns,” the young dwarf said as he opened the door wide enough to allow passage through.

 

Dwalin moved his hand to Ori’s back, and gently pushed the younger dwarf inside. Ori’s eyes were wide as he looked on the young brunette who must have been third or fourth in line for the throne.

 

“Dwalin, you cad! You managed to snare that little scribe you’ve had your eye on, haven’t you?” the youth asked. Dwalin gave him a look that usually struck fear into the hearts of hardened criminals. The brown-haired dwarf only grinned in response. 

 

“I hope the uncle ye spoke of is the elder one,” Dwalin said. The brunette didn’t seemed to notice Dwalin had said anything; he was too busy inspecting Ori. Dwalin cleared his throat to get the prince’s attention, but it was a lost cause.

 

“Fili, Dwalin’s brought a guest,” the brunette said in a sing-song voice as he danced away from Dwalin’s outstretched hand. Dwalin sighed as the grandson of the king disappeared into another room. Dwalin let go of Ori’s wrist and guided him with a hand on his back instead.

 

The two entered into a dining area with a large, marble table taking up most of the room. A fire roared in a matching fireplace. The table was piled high with food of better quality than Ori was used to eating. Dori always made porridge or oats for breakfast, which they’d taken to having with nuts and fruit since Ori had begun his journeyman work. This table was laden with sweet-buns, thick strips of bacon, no less then three different egg dishes, and a large bowl of potato hash. It seemed closer to an evening meal than one for the morning, but Ori didn’t dare say as much to his host. 

 

A brooding dwarrow in a mithril shirt and blue tunic sat at the head of the table. Ori guessed he must be a relative of the dwarrow who opened the door, since his hair was the same style and colour as the youth. The mithril shirt left Ori with the impression that he was an important figure, and he thought back to Dwalin's comment about being close friends with the heir to the throne. The brooding dwarf looked around the same age as the dwarrowdam who matched him in colouring, though she had a much cheerier demeanor. Her jewelry and beard beads were made of the same metal as the dwarrow's shirt. A blond dwarf, who looked a bit older than Ori, sat next to the woman. His light colouring was out of place with the rest of his family. Two plates across from the woman and her children were placed in front of empty chairs. 

 

Dwalin guided Ori to the chair furthest from the man at the head of the table, then sat down. The dark-haired woman smiled widely. 

 

“I was glad to hear you had caught the young man you’ve been watching, Dwalin. We’re in need of good news in this home.”

 

Dwalin, to Ori’s shock, turned red all the way from his neck to his scalp tattoos. He muttered an incomprehensible reply, and the woman smiled wider. 

 

“He’s as shy in matters of the heart as you’ve always said, brother! All these years, I’ve never believed you. Last night, he didn’t seem nearly as affected when he asked me to mentor his scribe,” The woman said to the man at the head of the table. _He must be Thorin_. Ori made a point of not looking over to stare at the acting king when the realization hit. 

 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you blush since you were still hiding in your mother’s skirts,” she teased.

 

“See, Fili. I told you!” the younger brother said, and his antics were a welcome distraction from Ori’s growing unease.

 

“And if you keep telling me, Dwalin’s going to give you extra axe practice and take away your bow,” The older son replied.  

 

The younger made a face before he turned to face the guests. Their mother had begun taking plates and serving food, starting with the man at the head of the table. Ori had little time to think about the implication that Dwalin had been interested in him for a while. As soon as his mother was occupied, the brunette stretched his arm across the food, leaning over his plate to do so, and said, “I’m Kili, at your service.” 

 

Ori did the polite thing and grabbed his wrist, waited for Kili’s fingers to grasp his own wrist, and shook.

 

“Ori, at yours,” he replied. Dis returned Dwalin’s plate to him, now laden with food. Before taking Ori’s plate, she held her arm out as Kili had done. Ori reached out and gently grabbed her wrist, hoping the tremor in his hands wasn’t noticeable. _It isn’t every day you hold the arm of the king’s daughter,_ he thought giddily.

 

“Dis, daughter of Thrain, at your service,” she said. Ori replied with the same words he’d said to Kili. Ori hoped no one would notice he’d left out the customary naming of his lineage. Kili had as well, and Ori hoped this would be attributed to his youth. Dis had finished serving Ori and had moved onto Kili when the blond youth held out his hand.

 

“Fili, son of Dis,” he said, spitting the words out like a challenge. Ori could feel his eyes widening, and the glare directed his way from the blond’s uncle. Ori’s hands stopped shaking as he reached out and grabbed Fili’s wrist and replied: 

 

“Ori, son of Riika.”

 

Ori could see Fili’s shock at his reply. Riika was a more common name for dwarfish women than Dis, so there could be no confusion that Ori was named for his mother the same as Fili was. _The name of a bastard_ , Ori thought bitterly. The blonde's hand tightened around his wrist briefly, a token of comfort, before Fili withdrew slowly. Ori looked at Kili, who was openly staring at him as well. Ori knew if he moved to look at Dis or her brother, their eyes would be on him as well. Rather than meet any of their eyes, he looked down at his plate.

 

Dori had always said he was happy to be named for their mother, because they were all sons of Riika. If they were named for their absent fathers, well, Ori and Nori would be brothers and Dori would be off on his own. “I’d rather be known as your brother than be free of the stares my name brings,” Dori had said one day when he’d found Ori in tears over the words of other children. 

 

Ori had privately thought he’d rather Dori be free of the shame than have all of them suffer, but he knew Dori would join him in tears if Ori ever said as much. Dori was much too prim and proper to live as a mother’s son, and Ori had always wondered at his strength for bearing it with the dignity that he did. 

 

Dwalin placed a hand on Ori’s leg, pulling him back to the present. He looked around the table and saw Fili smiling at him and Dis settling down in her own chair. Everyone had been served, and Ori took a deep breath to bring his appetite back. Before he could begin, the boys‘ uncle reached towards him, his arm brushing Dwalin’s chest. Dwalin pushed his chair back to give the man room.

 

“Thorin, son of Thrain. Fili is my heir,” he said with a neutral expression. Ori grabbed his arm and replied, once again naming himself as his mother’s son. Thorin’s mouth turned up at the edge in an almost-smile before retreating back to his own chair. 

 

Kili broke the silence that followed with an exclamation of joy at _finally_ being allowed to eat. Ori followed his lead and dug into his breakfast, glad for the excuse to avoid talking about what just happened. _If Thorin’s made Fili his heir, Fili has the right to call himself Thorin’s son, even if he isn’t his son by birth. And Kili didn’t name either parent_. Ori mused, glad for once that his family background wasn’t the most complicated one to explain. Dwalin finished his food before everyone else and rested an arm around the back of Ori’s chair as the scribe finished his breakfast. 

 

Once Ori had cleared his plate, Dis dumped a handful of candied fruits into it. “If you’re anything like my sons, you’re still of an age where you can eat and eat and none of it will come to rest in an uncomely way on your body,” she’d said.

 

Kili grinned at him across the table. He and Fili both had a similar pile of sweets on their plates. Ori ate his more slowly than the brothers, unused to eating so many sweets at once. Dori only bought them for special occasions.

 

Kili finished his first, and he grabbed the last sweet bun before asking Ori, “Do you play the hatter’s nines?” 

 

“Yes, though not all that often. My eldest brother isn’t fond of cards and my other brother prefers other games,” Ori replied, halfway through his candied fruit.

 

“Do you like playing? Because it is more fun with more players, and it’s getting boring only ever having Fili to play with,” Kili continued. It was only then Ori noticed the prince spoke with food in his mouth. From the look his mother was giving him, it must have been a long-standing grievance. 

 

“I like it well enough to play it with you some time, though I can’t promise that I’m any good at it.” 

 

“If yer half as good at remembering what cards have been dealt to who as your brother, ye’ll trounce the princelings,” Dwalin said. Ori looked over at his new husband in surprise.

 

“I’d best be off. Dis said she’d talk to you about hiring servants if ye’d like ‘em, and yer to go with the princelings to the seamstress,” Dwalin continued, sounding apologetic. 

 

Ori nodded up at Dwalin. He thought about the earlier insinuations that Dwalin had been infatuated for some time as Dwalin said his goodbyes. _That might explain why he’s being so proper about all this. But if he has been attracted to me, why did he never speak to me? And why did he give me a separate room if he’s been wanting me in his bed for a long time?_ Ori wondered. Dwalin paused for a moment, looking at Ori with an odd expression on his face. He reached down for one of Ori’s hands and brought it to his mouth to lightly press his lips against Ori’s knuckles. Dwalin looked into Ori’s eyes and took note of the younger dwarf’s reddening face. 

 

“I’ll see you tonight,” was all Ori managed to say in response, and Dwalin grinned.

 

“Aye. See ye then.” Dwalin’s hand lingered on Ori’s for a moment more before he left. Ori watched as Dwalin disappeared down the hall. _Why in Mahal’s name would Dwalin do that? He is acting like we’ve just started courting. Could I ask him? If he gets angry, how long would it take for Nori to rack up another thirteen charges? It’s not unheard of for guards to charge people with crimes just because they don’t like them._ Ori pulled the hand Dwalin had kissed back into his lap and covered it with his other hand. _Dwalin doesn’t seem like the type to do that. Although he did trade Nori’s arm for me, so I can’t exactly depend on him taking the higher road._ Ori felt his hands clench in his lap. 

 

_I’ll just do a bit of research, I’m sure Kili and Fili would be able to tell me about Dwalin. They seem so happy he’s gotten married, it wouldn’t be out of place for them to speak of Dwalin’s history if his new husband were to ask. Once I know what he’s like, I can try to talk to him about this situation._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to leaper182 for helping me by Beta'ing this chapter :D


	3. Surprise Relations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to Steerpike13713 for putting in the time and effort to help me beta this chapter :D

Fili and Kili were both gaped at him once Dwalin left the room. Ori didn’t notice at first, since he was too caught up in his own thoughts.

 

“He really likes you” Fili said after an awkward silence. Dis gave him a stern look but missed the chance to cut off Kili’s reply.

 

“Of course he does! He wouldn’t have married him if he didn’t like him, would he? S’long as there wasn’t a baby Dwalin could tup whoever he wanted and no one would care. After all, he’s the younger son, and a soldier at that.” 

 

“Kili, it was so kind of you to volunteer to clear the table, and to wash the dishes! What a generous lad you are” Dis said without looking at her younger son. Fili kept an eye on his mother and his mouth closed. Thorin let out a long suffering sigh and rested his head in his hands.

 

As Kili came by to grab Ori’s plate, Ori offered to help, but Dis refused, ‘For how else is Kili to learn when to keep his thoughts to himself.’

 

Thorin soon also made his excuses as well, and left. Dis shooed her sons out of the hall, reminding them of all the things they needed for their morning lessons. She then invited Ori into a sitting room, ‘with better chairs.’

 

Ori followed her down the hall, wishing desperately for his knitting to distract himself with.

 

“The lads will be back in the afternoon to join you at the seamstress. Doubtless I’ll have to pay her extra for having both of my sons in the same room,” Dis said as she set a heavy iron kettle over the fire in the main room. Ori looked down at his own clothes, then the fabric covering the chairs. Suddenly changing rooms seemed like less of a good idea. Dis gestured for him to sit in one of the chairs closer to the fire, and pulled a table closer to the chairs. She sat down in the one across from Ori and looked at him for a long moment. Ori wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, so he just fiddled with his fingerless mittens.

 

“I suppose Dwalin didn’t really cover what being married to him would mean, did he? He’s never been any good at having important conversations.”

 

Ori just shook his head, though he did look up from his lap.

 

“It’s much easier marrying as a dwarrowdam, in some ways, as we know what will be expected. Well, at least it is among the nobility and merchant class, the expectations are clear. From what I understand common women often have the same negotiations with their men that noblemen often make with each other. I doubt Dwalin’s covered who’ll cook and clean, chase after servants, or who will give up what time at work should you choose to adopt.”

 

Ori shook his head and said, “It was all rather sudden. We didn’t speak much about the future.”

 

He wasn’t sure what Dwalin had said to this woman about him, but marriage under the circumstances they’d had didn’t seem polite to speak of. Dis just sighed.

 

“Do you like cleaning? The division might be worth fighting over in a less well-off home, but if you can be home while a servant comes to clean twice weekly that’s all you should need to do. Balin usually manages the cleaning dwarrowdams, so you would only need to take it up when he’s away on diplomatic missions, as he is now. I doubt Dwalin will expect more of you than the occasional home-cooked meal. And softy that he is I doubt you’ll have trouble convincing him to clean if you’re the one cooking.”

 

“I used to help Dori cook, and I’m decent enough at it. Nothing fancy though,” Ori said wondering at her words. _Softy? Dwalin?_  

 

“Come around a few times and you can help Kili and me. That’s the best way to learn. He’s fond of cooking, though I suspect it’s because he can snack as much as he pleases.”

 

The kettle whistled to let the two dwarves know it was ready. Dis took it off the fire with thick potholders and pulled some mugs off a shelf. She placed those down, then found a teapot, leaves and a strainer. She put two heaping spoonsful of leaves in and poured the hot water over. 

 

“Did your master give you the journeyman’s beads as a wedding gift, or did you earn them earlier?” Dis asked as the tea steeped. Ori bristled at her words.

 

“I’ve been a full journeyman since the fools’ festival two winters past and working on my own from home since then,” Ori said curtly, before remembering who he spoke to. Before he could apologize Dis started to laugh. 

 

“My apologies. You look around my younger son’s age, and I have a hard time seeing him or his brother with the responsibility that comes once an apprenticeship is done. It’s not unheard of for masters to promote apprentices before marriage, only to continue their training afterwards,” Dis explained. She raised her hands in a placating manner to show her sincerity.

 

“For all my lads came of age a few years past they rarely act like the adults the law calls them,” Dis continued with a rueful smile.

 

“My master said most scribes take a full decade longer, at least, to reach my skill level. I’ve got an unusual talent for my work, which is why he took me even though we didn’t have the coin to pay the apprenticeship fee and he was no relative of mine,” Ori offered as an apology. 

 

He had never had the talent or inclination to feign modesty when talking about his skill as a scribe and illustrator, and even in the company of royalty Ori didn’t see why he should try. Dis didn’t show any of the usual disbelief at his claims of skill, and instead she wore a proud smile at his words. Ori couldn’t place why a woman he just met would be proud of him, and decided he must have misunderstood her expression. Dis placed the strainer over one mug and poured tea into it. She handed the first mug to Ori, then repeated the gesture with her own cup.

 

“And your sons don’t need to work. I’ve been told it makes adults out of youths more quickly,” Ori continued, wanting to impress on this woman that he was an adult in his own right. The last thing he needed was someone trying to take Dori’s place as primary fusspot and mother figure in his life.

 

Dis nodded her head at his words before she spoke again.

 

“How long ago did you come of age? I’d hazard it was recently, unless you are one of the lucky ones who forever seems younger than they are.”

 

“Three years before I got my journeyman’s braids,” Ori replied.

 

“So you’re around Kili’s age then. A bit older, but he’s closer in age to you than Fili is.” 

 

Ori only hummed in response. The mug in his hands warmed his fingertips.

 

“Have you ever considered working in a workshop, or the library? Until you and Dwalin adopt, you won’t have much to occupy your time.”

 

“The library? That’s for dwarves of better lineage than me,” Ori replied, staring into his cup. The tea smelled smoky, like the fancy stuff from the east Nori would buy for Dori as an apology when he came home covered in bruises.

 

“They’ll not speak of your mother if I write the reference, or when they know you’ve married Dwalin. If you’re as skilled as you say, they’d be sorry not to take you on.”

 

Ori thanked her for her offer, but was unable to keep the disbelief from his face. There was a stretched out moment of silence where both dwarves sipped their tea. Dis put her mug on the table then started at Ori intently. She seemed to be searching his face for something, though Ori couldn’t guess at what that was. Eventually Dis asked him a question.

 

“May I ask - and you can refuse to answer - if Riika, your mother, was she Riika, daughter of Riias?” 

 

Ori was silent for a long time after her question as confusion, anger, and shame warred within him. Dis watched his face closely and after some time began to form an apology. She was cut off by Ori’s response.

 

“Yes, she was. Though I’ve never met her father, or most of her family. Her mother visited once and brought a new bed, though that was when the black lung had nested too deeply into my mother’s chest to be removed. A cousin of mine, a guardsdwarrow, used to drag Nori home from gambling dens until he was posted back under the mountain. I asked some questions of guards who were fond of showing off to a young face, and I learned that Riias was the one who pushed for the move,” Ori said bitterly.

 

“She and I used to play at being sword maidens, and imagine we were the ancient battle queens of legend” Dis said with a sad smile. “I still have the painting of us my father commissioned when we were young, if you ever care to see. He had full armor made for us in the style of the Valkaandriis. Her father was Thrain’s third cousin, which is why we were often brought together as playmates. Our fathers used to be friends as well, though they had a falling out around the time I became heavy with Fili.”

 

“You knew her? She rarely spoke of her life before Dori,” Ori said, choking on his own voice. He wasn’t sure if his heart could take as many surprises as he’d had in the last day.

 

“It was as if we’d be born to be friends. We were inseparable until I was about forty and she was fifty. Along with my brother, Frerin, we got into some fantastic mischief. Sometimes he and I would switch places, and she’d play along pretending he was me.,” Dis grinned as she replied, but the gleeful look returned to a sad smile as she continued her story.

 

“Riika chased after a dwarrow who had just come into adulthood while she was still underage. I thought she’d been sent away for her very public flirting, which was, to me, no worse than the time Frerin, Riika and I spent the night in Dale after getting too drunk. It broke my heart when she never came home from her _vacation_ with relatives, and that I never got a letter or goodbye. I was a late starter to my cycle, you see, and I hadn’t known hers had started at that time, let alone that she’d engaged in congress with the dwarrow she was mooning after. That she could have gotten in the family way never occurred to me,” Dis finished.

 

“Did you ever know, then, that she’d had a family? Or am I the first you’d heard of it?” Ori asked, reveling in the new knowledge about his mother. He’d known she was from a noble family, but he had never guessed from one so prestigious. She rarely spoke of her life at court, insisting the life of tradesmen was what Dori and Ori needed to learn; because that was the best life they could ever hope for. It would be hard enough to go from mother’s son to craftsman, and teaching her sons to expect any more would have been cruel. Life as hers had been as a child was as untouchable as the stars, and Riika made it clear there would be no help from her family to bring them out of poverty. 

 

The miners at her work didn’t know what to make of her, and she didn’t know how to speak with them. Ori remembered her complaining to Dori once that she had no idea how to find other dwarrowdams with children Ori’s age who would allow them to be playmates. Ori thought of her loneliness and tattered clothes at the end of her life, and contrasted that with being the playmate to a princess. The intensity of his mother’s fall in status was suddenly much clearer. 

 

“Riias pushed my father to cast me out as he threw Riika away when he found out I was pregnant. That was the first I’d heard of her fate.” Dis replied, snapping Ori out of his trip down the memory mine. 

 

“I don’t know if her suitor refused to step up and marry her, or if Riias simply never asked him to. Fili’s father, a noble from the Iron Hills, asked for a large sum of money to marry me and save my reputation, so I have no illusions about the honesty and honour of nobledwarrows. When I realized what he’d asked my father, I said I’d not marry him for all the gold under the mountain. My father said -” 

 

Dis stopped for a moment to breathe in deeply before continuing  “He said he wouldn’t see me married to a man who loved gold more than me. He’d promised that any child in this family would be loved. Riias said some rather unpleasant things about my character, the same he’d said of Riika, and my grandfather had him banished from court,” Dis shook her head sadly. 

 

“Riias cared more for his reputation than family, which is a sadly common view among dwarrows in our class. My father thanked me once for my indiscretion, right before he went off to die at the hands of orcs. He thanked me for giving him the chance to meet a grandchild. At the time Fili was the only grandchild he had, and if I had waited until a political wedding had been arranged he would never have had that joy,” Dis said quietly. She looked into the fire, though Ori could tell it wasn’t the flames that captured her attention.

 

Dis offered Ori a sad smile, “She and I were cut from the same cloth, like twins from different mothers. I suppose the life you’ve lived is what Fili would have had if Durin’s folk weren’t so stubborn.”

 

“It’s not all so bad, you know,” Ori reassured her, “I’ve got Dori and Nori. When mum passed on to greater halls Dori did his best. Since he’s more skilled with steel than I’ll ever be with words, and mum bought his apprenticeship with the last of the family jewellery she was allowed to keep. His apprenticeship started the year before I was born. Dori’s kept us fed and clothed all these years, even though he was half way through his tweens when mum passed on.”

 

“Your grandfather should have paid for Dori’s apprenticeship. It’s not unheard of for the grandparents of mother’s sons to do such a thing, even if they won’t acknowledge in any other way the child exists,” Dis interrupted. Ori just shrugged, knowing her own families support had sheltered her from the harshness of reality.

 

“Nori even helped bring in coin during the first years after mum died. Dori taught me how to carry myself among the merchant class, and gave me the hope I could grow into a respectable tradesman. He even made time to teach my my letters in the evenings after his apprenticeship,” Ori continued, as though Dis hadn’t spoken.

 

“I’ll bet he doesn’t get paid half of what he should because he claims his lineage from his mother. I’d also wager you spent more time alone as a child than was safe or proper.” Dis said, anger seeping into her voice. Ori shrugged before responding. 

 

“I was apprenticed at a young age, barely over twenty five. Scribes start sooner than metal-workers, since physical strength isn’t important. I’d assume we start sooner than those who train to be fighters, but I’m not entirely sure. Dori brought some doodles and a poem I wrote for my mum around to a scribe-master a few months before mum died. I was the usual age for a scrivening apprenticeship, and so I had my master and his older apprentices watching me during the day. He even gave me lunch every day, even though I was supposed to bring my own. Dori drilled me in manners and watched me practice in the evenings when he came home from his own apprenticeship.”

 

“Did you have the same troubles Fili did finding friends as a youngling? Parents through he would be a bad influence until he was almost thirty,” Dis inquired.

 

“Merchant kids weren’t allowed near us, and miner’s children didn’t come around because their parents thought mum was a snob. I was happy with Dori and Nori as playmates when they were free, and it wasn’t until my fifties that I really noticed how hostile people can be when I name myself as a mother’s son,” Ori paused, not sure what else he could say to reassure Dis he was happy living with his brothers. His thoughts drifted to his disreputable elder brother who was quick to smile and never seemed to arm himself with detached politeness like Dori. Nori was the one who brought home money for food more often than not during the tough years when Dori wasn’t making any money at his apprenticeship. 

 

“Nori gets respect from it, oddly. Half the men he knows are mother’s sons, and to insult someone’s mother in the taverns he drinks in is like begging for a beating. I don’t think it will hurt him in any suit he peruses, either. He’s got his eye on a mother’s daughter who foists stolen goods in the market. She can’t judge him on his family, can she?” Ori said unthinkingly. He clapped a hand over his mouth, embarrassed he’d mentioned his older brother’s less than reputable profession. Dis just laughed.

 

“Dwalin mentioned your brother was in such a trade. Riika always loved pushing the rules, so he comes by it honestly.” 

 

“Our da, well, Nori’s and my da, worked for one of the gangs beating people up to collect what was owed. Nori says he doesn’t remember what he looks like, and I haven’t a clue. Nori swears he’d never gang up or take on work as a thug, so I’ve got an idea that he does know who our da is and would rather not deal with him.”

 

“And Dori’s father?” Dis asked. She sounded suspiciously disinterested and Ori narrowed his eyes at the dwarrowdam.

 

“Dori doesn’t know, and mum never said who he was.”

 

“What if I could tell you, or him? Would he like to know?” Dis asked in between sips of tea.

 

“I don’t - I’d have to ask him. He’s never really like talking about having a different da, you see. Nori said once that Dori should get off his back since they were only half-brothers and Dori didn’t speak to him for two weeks. Nori’s never said it since,” Ori paused, turning his mug around in his hands.

 

“He probably will say no, but I’ll ask all the same,” Ori said after a moment of thought. Dis nodded, though she looked unhappy with his response.

 

“Dori taught me to knit, you know” Ori said, deciding it was a good time to change the topic.

 

“Who taught him? Riika never had the patience for as, as I recall.”

 

“He picked it up from the washerwoman mum’d paid to watch him back when she worked in the mines. He knit me these gloves ‘cause my hands get cramped when I write for too long.”

 

“The library is well heated, you know. I’ll speak to Dwalin about getting you a position there.”

 

“Was my mum - was she happy when you knew her?” Ori asked. He cringed at how he sounded, and at returning to a topic he usually avoided. His mum died before Ori had entered his fifties, and all he could remember of her was sad smiles, a deep cough, and the bed time stories she would tell on her better days. She’d taken on work in one of the less reputable mines on the outskirts of Erebor after Ori’s dad left, where she mined an odd rock some men liked to use as insulation. The mine was shut down some time after his mother’s death because too many workers were dying of the black lung or cave-ins.

 

“She was. Our childhood was marked by laughter from our pranks. We had more spare time than our brothers, so we had more time to play. She was always willing to help Frerin and I switch places, even dressing him up as a sword-maid once to make our switch seem convincing. Her brothers were very protective of her, and she was often off on one adventure or another leaving them to chase after her. She cared little for her own safety at times, which her father often said was proof she was meant to be born a lad,” Dis said with a sad smile. She closed her eyes, remembering the childhood friend she hadn’t seen in over a hundred years. 

 

“It’s a shame to hear she’s passed on. I’d always imagined she’d taken off with her firstborn and brought him along on some wild adventure”

 

“That’s the last thing Dori would want,” Ori said with feeling, startling yet another laugh out of Dis, though she said she could not explain the joke without explaining Dori’s father. 

 

Dis sat with him and reminisced about her childhood friend, giving Ori happier stories about his mother to think of than what he remembered of her. They spoke of Riika until Fili and Kili came home from their classes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll get more Dwalin interactions in the next chapter, I promise. I just love Dis and wanted to write her for a while.


	4. Clothes and Songs

The seamstress’s shop was an entirely new experience for Ori. Dori had sewn all of his clothes until Ori came of an age to make his own. The dwarrowdam had Ori strip down to his underclothes and measured every possible inch of his body she could measure. Ori almost protested as she measured for the inseam of his pants, but a stern look from the dwarrodam stopped him. She’d tutted at the state of his clothes, then run off to Dis to talk in heated tones. A lot of coins exchanged hands before Dis’ sons were measured, and coins changed hands again after the woman was done with them. Then the three of young dwarves sat around in their underclothes until one of the seamstress’s assistants returned.

 

Ori was handed a new set of underclothes and was shoved behind curtains to change into them. After he was done changing the assistant brought out a slew of shirts, tunics and pants. Ori had to stand as the assistant pinned them and sewed them to fit his form. Fili and Kili stood on platforms nearby, making faces and occasionally squirming out of the seamstresses’ reach. Once they were set free the seamstress assured Dis the clothes would all be delivered over the next few days. Ori alone was given a new dark green tunic and pair of brown pants to take with him.

 

“They don’t fit as well as they should, but you can’t go gadding about dressed as you are now,” the woman had insisted haughtily. 

 

The group walked home together, and dwarves made space for them to pass when they walked through crowded streets. It was a surreal experience for Ori.

 

Dwalin met them at the corner between king’s row and the main avenue. He was carrying a large bundle and sporting a fresh black eye. He grinned when he saw Ori. He walked towards the group, and plucked the package of clothes out of Ori’s hands.

 

“I’ll carry that fer ye,” he said with a half-smile. Ori tried to be subtle when he stared at Dwalin’s bruises. Fili and Kili didn’t try to hide their own stares as they snickered at Dwalin’s actions. Dwalin had both packages under one arm, and his other resting at the small of Ori’s back as the group walked down the lane to their homes. 

 

“Where’d you get the black eye, Dwalin?” Fili asked. Dis hid a smile when Dwalin looked back at her sons. It was a testament to their respect for Dwalin that they had bothered to wait longer than thirty seconds before asking.

 

“A wedding gift from Ori’s brother. Apparently I should have asked his permission first.”

 

“Which brother?” Ori asked quickly, hoping Nori hadn’t gone and gotten himself into more trouble so soon after Ori pulled him out of it.

 

“Dori. He sent some clothes fer ye. He bids ye come visit soon. I thought I’d walk ye down two nights from now when I meet the usual lads at a pub near yer house.” 

 

Dwalin didn’t sound angry for having been injured. Ori knew all too well Dori had a strong arm and little hesitation to use it in defense of his brothers. There had been two  incidents  where a group of rough-looking dwarves had come looking for Nori and a third occasion when the unwanted visitors were men. Each time Dori had sent those looking to harm Nori away with broken arms or cracked skulls. After the third time, no matter how much money Nori owed, no one would come by the house to try to find him. Dori had hit one man in the side of the head, and when he woke three days later he was addled, and no healer could take that damage back. For all that Dori was a mother’s son, no court would punish him for attacking someone who had broken into his home.

 

Kili and Fili were quiet for a moment, and Dis asked the next question sounding both pleased and scandalized.

 

“Dwalin, please tell me you didn’t elope with Ori. I can hardly believe it of you! I thought it was strange you didn’t invite us to a ceremony, but I assumed that was because Ori preferred a traditional ceremony. ”

 

“I can’t tell ye something that’s a lie,” Dwalin replied. The blush from the morning was returning full force. 

 

“I should hope you at least spoke to Balin about this. It would be bad luck on your future years if he responds as Dori has,” Dis teased. Before Dwalin could reply she turned to her sons.

 

“I know I have told you both to look to Dwalin for moral guidance, but now I am beginning to regret those words. I hope to Mahal above you two bring any paramours home to meet me before you go about marrying them. I’d like to plan a proper wedding feast for at least one of you, since the one I had with Kili’s father was planned entirely by his mother.”

 

“And she put pickled radishes on half the food. I know mother,” Kili replied. Fili made a face when Kili mentioned the radishes. 

 

“Mother, I can promise you the only things pickled at my wedding feast will be cucumbers and spicy peppers,” Fili said with feeling. Dis smiled at him and Kili rolled his eyes.

 

“Everything pickled is delicious,” Kili replied. 

 

“That’s a lie and you know it,” Fili said, and shoved his younger brother lightly.

 

“Everything! Especially eggs,” Kili insisted as he gave Fili a light push back.

 

The brothers fell behind their mother as they continued their argument about food. As they approached Dwalin’s home Dis spoke again, sounding more serious.

 

“Dwalin, if you’ve time I thought we could take Ori to the library. I thought he might find work there, since freelance work will be harder to come by as your husband.”

 

“Aye, I’ve got the time in the morning. I hadn’t thought to ask about the library for a place for Ori,” Dwalin looked uncomfortable at the mention of the library. Ori assumed it must have been guilt, though he couldn’t tell if it was for poor planning or for making their marriage appear as it wasn’t.

 

“No doubt that’s because you eloped,” Dis didn’t seem to notice Dwalin’s discomfort, because she continued on in a sing song tone that made her sound scarily like her younger son. 

 

“If you’d taken your time with things, consideration for Ori’s profession would have come up,” Dis continued in a more somber tone. 

 

“I suppose there is some good in going slowly,” He said apologetically, looking at Ori.

 

“You would also have had his wedding gifts ready to give him on time,” Dis said, elbowing Dwalin lightly.

 

They’d reached the door to Dwalin’s home. He shrugged and took his hand off Ori to open the door. 

 

“Aye, that’s true as well.”

 

“When you’ve put everything away and Ori’s had a chance to change come back to my place. Ori’s been so kind as to agree to help me make dinner,” Dis said, before shooing her still arguing sons along towards home. Dwalin held the door open for Ori and watched the younger dwarf walk through it. He walked to the main living room and  put his package down on a couch.

 

“Dori wasn’t too mad, was he?” Ori asked.

 

“As mad as to be expected, under the circumstances,” Dwalin replied. He sat down on a chair and leaned back slowly, “He’s worried about ye. I’m to go back tomorrow fer an interrogation. Yer brother Nori wasn’t there that I could see.” 

 

“Why didn’t he just talk with you today?” Ori was confused. Dori usually wasn’t one to waste time or put things off that needed doing.

 

“We did talk. Well, more like he yelled a lot and eventually I yelled louder. He seemed to think I’d taken ye as some sort of pet. He saw the braid and didn’t realize it was new.”

 

_Oh - Oh dear._ Ori thought. His chest constricted, thinking of the worry he must have caused. _Nori must have thought as I did at first, and assumed it was all about sex. It makes sense that’s what he’d tell Dori. Since I didn’t come home this morning..._

 

“Oh I’ll have to apologize to Dori for worrying him so,” Ori said, sitting on the chair closest to the couch. “And you ought to have asked me for a note. Dori must have thought I’d been terribly injured, or that something dreadful had happened.”

 

“He still thinks something dreadful happened. When I told his the braid was done by yer hands he knocked me flat on the floor. Yer brother was very insistent that ye were too young to wear the bead ye now do,” Dwalin looked guilty again. He didn’t say anything more, but Ori suspected Dori had more concerns about this marriage than his age. 

 

_No doubt Dori thinks Dwalin will treat me_ _like he owns me, or worse_ _. But if what Kili and Fili said is true, he didn’t need to marry me if he just wanted a roll between the sheets. His reputation would remain intact, and I haven’t got much of a reputation to sully, so he wouldn’t need to care about that. Outside of the circumstances of my agreement, he’s been nothing but kind. Why didn’t he ever try and court me before this whole business with Nori?_ Ori thought on Dwalin’s words for a while longer as he fiddled with his mittens.

 

“Dis isn’t entirely right, ye know, about the gifts,” Dwalin said, then paused. Ori looked up at Dwalin with a quizzical expression.

 

“It’s within the rules that high ranking guards can pardon a criminal as a wedding gift if that criminal’s close family to their intended. That gift wasn’t given late,” Dwalin explained.

 

“Why in Mahal’s name would a guard be allowed to pardon his spouse’s family? That hardly seems fair,” Ori  asked impulsively .

 

“Nobles don’t marry into families with lawbreakers, ye see. And guards can’t be seen to be too friendly with those on the wrong side of the law. Pardons helps guards keep face if they love someone from a disreputable family. It’s an old law, and not in the name of justice, but the king has yet to change it. It’s not common, but I’m hardly the first to-” Dwalin paused and muttered something under his breath. Ori couldn’t quite catch what he said but he could make out ‘not Balin’ somewhere in the middle. It was the most Ori had ever heard Dwalin say at once.

 

Dwalin cleared his throat and said more clearly, “Under better circumstances I’d have tossed yer brother’s file into the fire on a night where he hadn’t been brought in and ye weren’t there only to bring him home safe.”

 

He looked away from Ori and stood up quickly. Grabbing the two packages on the couch he walked quickly towards Ori’s room. 

 

“Ye’d best change for dinner. Dis’ll be expecting us soon,” Dwalin called down the hall without looking over his shoulder. Ori followed behind him, mulling over Dwalin’s revelation. He saw Dwalin duck into his own room and shut the door. Ori walked into his own room and saw the packages on his bed. Ori opened the one with his new clothes first. After changing into them he carefully opened the second package. His winter coat acted as the wrapping, and Dori had used some of his thicker yarn to tie the bundle together.

 

Inside were his cardigans, his scarf, a pair of fingerless gloves, his spare shirt, his notebooks, his writing supplies, a hairbrush that he’d inherited from his mother and a letter from Dori. The paper was folded and sealed with wax. Dori didn’t have a signet ring to press into the wax, but the wax did bear the mark of his thumbprint.

 

_Dear Ori,_

 

_I’ve grown used to being up late waiting on Nori, and I never expected to do the same for you. Nori’s blaming himself for your situation, as he well should. I’m hoping this teaches him to mind the consequences of his actions, but only time will tell if it does. Your new ‘husband’ is waiting downstairs. It’s a shock to me that my youngest brother would get married first out of the three of us._

 

_With luck the guard will hold to his word and not read this letter. Captain Dwalin says you’ve married him, and the braid in his hair was done by your own hand. I suppose that is better news that what Nori told me, but not by much. I won’t repeat what Nori told me you’d offered to do. He tore some of his hair out while telling me, and seemed very concerned for your safety. I dearly hope that Nori is wrong about what happened in the captain’s office._

 

_You’re to come home for a visit as soon as possible. If I don’t see you by the end of this week, son of Fundin or not, I’ll come track you down in his house. If he’s married you as he says, it shouldn’t be much trouble for you to come and visit. You owe me an explanation, and Nori hasn’t left his bed since he came home without you last night._

 

_He claims he’s treating you well and that he has nothing but respect for you. You and I both know that if it came down to his word against yours, most would believe him. I cannot understand why he’s chosen to marry you! Any dwarrow would be lucky to have you, but I never imagined you matched with a guardsdwarrow. You’ve never mentioned speaking to him before, let alone courting. You’re an honest lad and I know if you’d asked him to come calling I’d have heard about it. If he’s chosen you because he thinks he can bully you in ways he cannot a dwarf of his own status, send me word. Nori will come get you, since he has experience at taking things from others would rather keep. As long as you are inside my house, marriage braid or no, Dwalin can’t take you without going through me. I expect a letter from you tomorrow, and if Dwalin doesn’t bring one I’ll make sure his eyes match before the evening’s through._

 

_All my love,_

 

_Dori_

 

Ori smiled reading the letter. It had all the formality and brotherly rage Ori had come to expect from his brother. Dwalin was a brave dwarf to willingly endure Dori’s rage a second time. _Why, though?_ The question came back into his mind. _If he just wanted a decorative husband he could have gotten a nicer looking one than me, or one more skilled at domestic tasks._ _And his words earlier, he must have meant to court me before this business with Nori’s arm happened. He seemed so unhappy Nori’s pardon was a trade for me instead of a gift to allow us to marry in good standing._ Ori thought back to Kili and Dis’ teasing comments. Ori had no doubt now that Dwalin must have been paying attention to Ori for a while. 

 

_He was interested enough to mention me to his friends, but he never spoke to me about it. What was he waiting for? How long has he considered me courting material?_ _I first met him when I bailed Nori out two winters past. Was it then, or maybe that time he asked how I earned Nori’s bail last fall? I’ve seen Dwalin a fair number of times since either of those occasions, both at the guardhouse or when he’d watch me bring Nori home drunk. He always watched us, but never spoke to me._ Ori remembered how he had been glad the few times he’d seen Dwalin in the streets as he helped his brother stagger home. Usually the guards would try and trip Nori for a laugh, but no one played such games when Dwalin was within earshot. He’d even seen Dwalin backhand someone who made a move towards them once. 

 

_Divorce needs to be on grounds of cruelty or adultery_ , Ori thought to himself, moving away from his thoughts about Dwalin’s interest in him. Instead, Ori focused on considering Dori’s offer of bringing him home. _If you agree to marry, you can’t just walk away and break the other’s heart without good reason._ The nobility had this nasty habit of having political marriages that ended with one party falling in love with someone other than their spouse, and as long as the match was political one party could leave for love. The grounds of cruelty had to be extreme and often only were enforced if the victim had the political sway to be believed in the middle and upper classes. From what Ori had heard, miners tended to send a brother or five around to beat up the offender and take their sibling home. 

 

_Dwarves only love once, and it would be too cruel even for kings to deny the satisfaction of that love_ , Ori thought sadly. _Even in cases of adultery, the loyal spouse needs political clout to make the charges stick if the adulterer was only looking for sexual satisfaction. I don’t see myself sleeping around or falling in love any time soon, and it is becoming apparent Dwalin isn’t the sort to have casual sex either. Unless Dwalin hits me, and a judge believes me about it, Dwalin could just bring me back to his home if I ran away. I’d have to stay indoors where Dori could protect me until he lost interest if I leave him._

 

Ori left Dori’s note folded inside one of his jumpers. _I’ll have to write him back and say I’m going to give this marriage a shot. Dwalin has yet to be cruel, and has offered to get me a job in the library. If I eventually have to share his bed, well, there are worse fates. He would do his best to,_ Ori had to pause before finishing that thought, _Dwalin would do his best to see I enjoyed it as well. I don’t think that’s what I want now, but Nori’s spoken of worse marriages than the one I’m in now. I should remember that when the time comes to spend the night with my husband._

 

Ori grabbed one of his older cardigans and put it on over his new shirt, leaving the buttons undone. Dori had knitted it for coming of age, and feeling the stitch-work under his fingers was comforting. Just feeling the warmth of the sweater reminded him of Dori’s habit of fussing over his younger brothers. It drove Nori out of the house often, but Ori knew Dori needed to feel like he succeeding in caring for his younger brothers. Ori was used to letting his eldest brother force him to eat green food. He knew to ignore when Dori went cold by giving Ori his extra blanket. These acts, and many more, were what gave Dori comfort, and Ori felt cruel the few times in his fifties that he denied Dori that comfort.

 

Ori left his room to find Dwalin. He didn’t have to search hard, since Dwalin waiting for him by the front door. Dwalin didn’t comment on how long Ori had sat in his room, though Ori knew it had been longer than he should have. The older dwarrow’s mouth twitched as he took note of the cardigan, though he didn’t comment on it. Instead he lightly placed a hand on Ori’s back and pushed him so they were walking side by side. Dwalin’s hand rested on the small of Ori’s back the entire walk to Dis’ apartments. One of the city guards stared at Dwalin’s hand, only to be scared off with a stern look, which reminded Ori’s of his earlier questions about Dwalin’s motives. 

 

Dinner with Dis and her sons went much like breakfast had. Ori spent a good deal of time helping her prepare, a task Kili apparently took a lot of joy in. The two chatted about the sillier women’s fashion’s they’d seen in the shop as they prepared things according to Dis’ instructions. Ori noted they had more spices than he was used to working with, and there were more dishes in their meal than Ori usually had.

 

“Mum only cooks on days she’s not at the smithy,” Kili told him as they peeled potatoes, “She loves working with gold, and she’s got the talent for it. Not many do, most are called by other metals or by stones. Mum didn’t work with it while we were younger, but she took it up again fifteen years ago. She get caught up and forgets to come home in time to cook, so on those days we take our meal with Thorin, he’s got servants to cook for him.”

 

“Dori can get like that. We usually hope he doesn’t get too worked up over a dagger on days I’m caught up with a manuscript, or else we end up cooking together long after dark,” Ori confided in Kili. He was rewarded with a smile.

 

“I get like that with the bow. My uncle Frerin teaches me. He’s got the mines in his bones, the way mum’s got gold in hers,” Kili twisted his hair around his finger, not mindful of the potato starch he was getting in his dark mane.

 

“I’ve done the rounds of all the usual trades and nothing compares to the bow.” 

 

“Is that so bad? Nori gambles and picks pockets for a living, and I write.” 

 

“Yeah, but you look like a proper dwarf. I’ve got an elfish nose and delicate cheekbones.”

 

Ori laughed at that, “And what does that have to do with the price of grain in the Blue Mountains?”

 

“Well, elves like bows. Elves are delicate looking. Elves use, they don’t make, they use. Dwarves make things. It’s what we do.” 

 

“And elves also aren’t of the house of Durin,” Ori replied. Kili shrugged and went back to work on his potatoes. 

 

“So long as you do honourably by your family, there’s not much more any dwarf can ask of you,” Ori said in a quiet voice, “Dwarrowdams don’t have sex outside the marriage bed, yet here Fili and I are. That doesn’t make our mums any less dwarfish, or any less of a dam.”

 

Dis came by to check on their work after Ori had fallen silent again. She congratulated him on how little of the potato he wasted, and gave Kili a meaningful look. After the potatoes she had the dwarrows gut and dress a chicken each. Kili taught Ori by example, since Ori was used to buying and preparing odd pieces of meat, never a full chicken. They washed their hands before going to the spice cabinet to choose seasonings. As Kili haphazardly sprinkled spices and herbs over his chicken, Ori began his investigation of Dwalin.

 

“Dwalin teaches you how to fight, right?”

 

“Yeah, he teaches Fili and me, since he’s the best fighter in the Erebor. Nothing but the best for the heirs of Durin,” Kili replied. The last sentence sounded bitter, but before Ori could ask about it, Kili continued speaking.

 

“His father, Fundin, trained Thorin. Fundin was also Thror’s bodyguard and acting general of Erebor’s army when war broke out with the Orcs.”

 

“Which war was that? The one before Thrain’s death or the one after?” Ori asked, since he wasn’t entirely clear on military history. It was rare for him to copy texts about recent events. Most of his work was writing and reading letters for illiterate dwarfs and making copies of old texts.

 

“The first war, and I think it was before Dwalin was born. It would explain why Balin is so different from his brother, Fundin didn’t see him much until Balin was half grown. Dwalin was second-in-command to Thorin in the last war, the one to avenge grandfather and grandmother.” 

 

“Is Dwalin a hard master? I’ve only ever seen him at his work as a guard.”

 

“He drives us hard, but he never beats us for the sake of it, on or off the training grounds. He’s better than the fellow who trains most of the other young noblemen in that way. I’ve seen their bruises, and I know the difference between a missed block bruise and signs of a beating. You’d have to ask Fili for more detail, though, if you want to know more — he spends much more time with Dwalin than I do. I’ve only got sword work with him now, since I was such a failure at the axe,” Kili smiled ruefully, and Ori was sure there was an entertaining story behind that smile.

 

“I’m the second sister-son, not the heir, so my training is less important. Thorin said I only need to be good with a sword, not an expert. I spend more time with my uncle Frerin learning the bow,” Kili finished. He showed Ori where the baking pans were, and they put their chickens into the coal oven Dis had just finished heating. Kili and Ori moved into the main living area. Dwalin was having a quiet heated conversation with Thorin in the dining room, so the young dwarrows had the room to themselves. Ori pressed Fili for information as well, and Fili repeated much of Kili’s comments about Dwalin as an arms-master. 

 

“I’d heard from Thorin that Fundin had a much rougher training style, more like the other arms masters at court. He didn’t have the same rules for punishment as Dwalin, though he never went overboard like, uh, whatshisface? The one who trains our second cousins?” Fili looked over to Kili for help, but Kili just shrugged. 

 

Fili smiled ruefully, then continued, “Uncle says I’ve progressed just as quickly as he did, if not faster, so he’s never spoken to Dwalin about the difference in style. Though he also said Dwalin was always pushing himself harder than anyone else, even without threat of punishment, because a good word from Fundin was worth the extra effort. So, maybe that’s why Dwalin is always willing to say when you’re doing well. Which, again, makes him better than many of the other arms masters, who only ever complain.”

 

“Punishment - was it, ah was it just extra craft work? My master would assign copying accounting sheets if we were caught slacking. What’s the equivalent for weapons work?” Ori asked, trying to sound disinterested. He got an odd look from the brothers before he got an answer.

 

“Dwalin assigned extra exercises, or chores like carrying buckets of water or chopping wood, if he thinks I’ve been slacking or skipping practices. Many arms masters will just thump slow students to encourage them to learn faster. Fundin had a mixed style, from what I’ve heard Thorin say when he talks about his youth,” Fili replied.

 

Ori wasn’t able to ask any more after that, because Dis declared dinner done and called the dwarrows to the table. The conversation over dinner seemed to revolve around some drama at court involving people Ori didn’t know. As a result, Ori didn’t talk much. Dwalin kept looking over at Ori in concern. The guardsdwarrow made a point of serving Ori first when the plates of food were passed around. Whenever Ori was finished Dwain would place more food on Ori’s plate until the younger dwarrow made it clear that he could eat no more. 

 

After dinner they all retreated into the living area. Ori made to sit with Dwalin, who guided him to sit with the princelings instead. The three young dwarrows all exchanged confused looks at Dwalin’s behaviour, but said nothing. The guardsdwarrow drank enough beer to sing along with Fili and Kili when they burst into song late in the evening. Ori, who’d never had the coin or inclination to go out drinking, didn’t know the words to their cheery drinking songs.

 

When they switched to more somber songs, Thorin and Dis both joined in. Ori knew the words to these songs, but found himself unable to sing without Nori nearby to harmonize with. Fili promised with vigor he’d teach all his favourite songs to Ori over the next few weeks when he noticed how quiet the scribe was. It was soon after her son’s promise that Dis sent the newlyweds home.

 

Dwalin walked Ori to the hall between their rooms, bowed deeply, then went into his own room. Ori stared at the closed door for a long moment before entering his new room. He changed into his smallclothes, then put his sweater from Dori back on. Ori got under the covers and pulled the blanket up past his shoulders. He waited to hear Dwalin’s heavy steps cross the hall, and mentally prepared himself once again for doing his duty. He reassured himself by thinking of all the evidence that showed Dwalin would be gentle in this act, but those thoughts did little to help relieve his fear. Ori never heard the sounds of Dwalin coming to his room, however, and the tension from waiting only left Ori’s body when he passed into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to Steerpike13713 for putting in the time and effort to help me beta this chapter. I really appreciate the valuable comments and general helpfulness.


	5. Uncles and Books

Ori woke to the sound of Dwalin knocking on his door. His first reaction was to pull the blanket over his head and pretend he was still asleep. Dwalin knocked louder, and then said in a soft voice, “Dis wants to take ye to the library today. If ye want a proper breakfast first ye’d best get up soon,”

 

Ori pulled the blankets down and rushed to get ready when he heard the word _Library_. He was out faster than the morning before, and Dwalin was leaning against the wall in the hall. Ori nodded at him, and Dwalin’s hand landed on his head.

 

“I ought to redo your braid tonight,” he said, as he ran his fingers over Ori’s newest bead. Ori only hummed in agreement. The two made their way to Dis’ home, but, before knocking on her door, Dwalin stopped to speak with Ori.

 

“Frerin, he’s Dis’ younger brother. They didn’t speak for many years, and from time to time one will say something that has the other running from the room.”

 

Ori began to ask a question but was interrupted by Dwalin, who sounded slightly anxious.

 

“He might make an off-colour joke or two about your mum. Dis will thump him for it, and yer not to apologize to Frerin. All Kili’s tactlessness is a gift from his uncle.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ori said.

 

Dwalin knocked on the heavy doors, and Fili opened them moments later.

 

“Frerin has news that is going to make you laugh Dwalin,” Fili said as a greeting.

 

“Oh does he now?” Dwalin replied neutrally.

 

“Aye, he thinks he’s found his one true love,”

 

“Again? That’s hardly news.”

 

“He’s acting different about this one. Mum’s just told me she’s never seen him like this before,” Fili said as the trio walked to the dining room. Fili sat next to Thorin. Frerin was at the other head of the table next to Kili, and Dis sat between her boys to stop them from elbowing one another during the meal.

 

Ori wound up sitting opposite Fili. Dwalin sat next to Frerin and gave the dwarrow a dirty look when he leered at Ori. 

 

“I hope he’s of age Dwalin,” Frerin said as he reached for one of the sweet-buns. Dis smacked his wrist with a serving spoon, and he retreated without his prize. 

 

“Aye, he is.”

 

“Was he when you first set your eyes on him?”

 

“Frerin seems to think everyone suffers from the same faults he does,” Fili said in a staged whisper across the table to Ori. Frerin frowned.

 

“She said she was of age! How was I to know? And I never slept with her, we only went for a few walks before her father let me know what was what,” Frerin protested. He dramatically turned away from his nephew to look at at Dwalin.

 

“He’s a scribe, right? I can’t wait until the fluff-heads at court find out. Glina is going to be positively furious,” Frerin said with unhidden glee. He turned his gaze on Ori before explaining.

 

“She’s been chasing after him for years, hoping to better her position in court. I don’t think she knows about anything more than guards and dresses though. It was kind of you to wed Dwalin to save him from the idiots like her.”

 

“And ye’ve been the idiot chasing them back,” Dwalin replied. Frerin laughed and nodded his head.

 

“I have been an idiot, for none of them could compare to the jewel I’ve found in the mines.”

 

Dis began to serve breakfast, interrupting any question about Frerin’s latest intended. It was only after everyone was served that Thorin asked, “How is this mining lass any different from a woman at court? If you want me to support you suit to grandfather, you had better be serious.”

 

“Amifur is the most beautiful dwarven lass I’ve ever laid eyes upon, and she’s got the mines in her bones and anyone who looks at her can see it. She’s so strong, not like the girls at court. Our sister’s gracious self is the exception, of course,” Frerin smiled at his sister.

 

“She can spot a diamond among coal in one glance, and can shovel stone like nobody’s business. She jokes like all the dwarrows, and turned me down the first three times I tried to buy her dinner.”

 

The last bit was said with the most excitement. Ori got the impression Frerin wasn’t denied much as a child and it thrilled him to have to work for something. Dis and Thorin exchanged significant looks.

 

“Her brother agreed to chaperone her, if I brought her by to meet you,” Frerin said. The brashness had left his voice, and Ori began to feel uncomfortable witnessing what was clearly a private family conversation.

 

“Dis and I are excellent chaperones. Why wouldn’t this miner trust us?” Thorin asked, sounding offended.

 

“Her eldest brother, well, I can see why he thinks this way — her brother doesn’t entirely trust me alone with her, or that I’d actually have chaperones when I say I would. She’s the youngest, from what I understand, and the only girl…” Frerin trailed off into silence.

 

Thorin’s face darkened, and he looked like he might speak again. Ori spoke before he lost the nerve, cutting the older dwarf off before he could speak against the mining lass.

 

“Kili said yesterday younger sons can dally all they want before marriage and I don’t doubt that’s true. It’s also not all that unheard of for upper class men to dally with poorer women and boys, and their families have no recompense when a babe comes or a heart’s broken. They also have little justice if the son or daughter said no, and the noble or merchant didn’t listen. Some dwarrows will pay the guard to not hear the complaint, and the poorer family is left with a hurt son or daughter who will never see justice.”

 

Thorin and Dis looked shocked to hear his words, and Dwalin was quick to growl, “No such thing happens on my watch.”

 

“Not every watch is yours, and even your eyes can’t be everywhere.” Ori replied, then cringed as he waited for an angry response. Instead of getting angry, Dwalin sighed and looked ashamed.

 

“It’s true, the guard isn’t as honest as I’d like, especially once they’re above ground,” Dwalin admitted, though he seemed pained to do so.

 

“So, Amifur’s brother is worried Frerin might get her in the family way then leave, whether she is willing or not?” Fili asked.

 

Frerin shrugged. “It might be — Dis if you could just see how she clears gold out from the rock, you’d understand why I need her to take me seriously.”

 

“I don’t know how anyone could take you seriously, uncle,” Kili piped up with in between bites of sweet buns. Frerin gave his nephew a crooked smile. 

 

“When you want to court some lass in ten years’ time, remind me to say the same words back to you.”

 

“If you marry a miner, grandfather won’t be able to marry you off to the Iron Hills for an alliance now that Dis’ marriage has fallen apart,” Thorin mused out loud.

 

“Dwalin’s just married a scribe, and a mother’s son at that. How much worse can it be for me to marry a miner?” Frerin responded. Dwalin growled at him, and Frerin raised his hands in surrender, “No offence meant, Dwalin. But we both know how the court gossips are going to take your marriage.”

 

“And ye’ve got to worry about more than the words of idiots at court. I’m not near the top of the succession line.”

 

“I’ll abdicate, if it comes to that.” Frerin replied. The prince tried to sound flippant, but anger seeped into his voice. Dis gasped and looked at her younger brother.

 

“You can’t mean that,” she said flatly.

 

“I do.”

 

“You had better be serious. Thror will probably ask it of you. Despite Fili being born out of wedlock, he has strong blood from both parents. That’s enough to guarantee his place in the succession line. Your children won’t have that,” Thorin said. His voice was calm.

 

“Fili would be a better king than I ever would be,” Fili and Dis both looked shocked. Fili was the first to snap out of it, his surprise morphing into pride. Frerin looked at his sister and frowned at her expression.

 

“Surely I’ve said that before.”

 

“You spent the first four decades of Fili’s life pretending he didn’t exist. Please excuse me for thinking you didn’t approve of Thorin choosing him as heir,” Dis replied curtly. Frerin had the decency to look ashamed and didn’t respond. 

 

“He came around eventually,” Fili said. He reached for second servings of bacon and Kili spoke to his uncle’s defence next.

 

“Frerin’s just a bit slow to come around to good ideas, that’s all. It would explain why he only just found this mining lass.”

 

Ori wasn’t sure if Kili was defending his uncle or insulting him. He glanced over at Frerin, and saw the prince wasn’t entirely sure either. 

 

“Well, you can speak to Thror if he’s up to it later today. The healers sent me a message saying they’re trying a new medication this week. Perhaps Thorin can take you when Dwalin and I take Ori to the library,” Dis said, and her tone indicated the topic was closed. 

 

Breakfast continued on a much less excitable not after that. Frerin and Thorin spoke of issues with the mines, and they argued over the benefits and downfalls of digging northward to expand the mines.

 

“Aren’t you going to be missed in Dale?” Ori asked Dwalin quietly. He didn’t want to interrupt the brothers’ argument.

 

“I’m stationed to be with the upper city guard today. The library is within that division, so I can always say I was examining their work if anyone asks.” Dwalin replied in an equally quiet voice. 

 

“So you aren’t in Dale every day?” Ori said. _That would explain why I didn’t see him as often as the other guards._

 

“Aye. I do rounds of all the guard divisions to make sure they’re working as they ought. I do spend more time in Dale than with the others, though, because they need more supervision than inner-mountain guards.”

 

“That’s a shame. It’s much nicer being under the mountain than out in the open,” Ori replied without thinking. Dwalin rewarded his thoughtlessness with a wide smile. 

 

“Aye, but it wasn’t a hardship to be topside when I came across you,” Dwalin replied in an almost flirtatious tone. Before he could say more, Thorin dragged him into the argument by asking his opinion about how difficult it would be to guard a neighbourhood converted from a gold mine to a residential area. 

 

_Again with the courting behaviour. He won’t drag me to bed, but he’ll flirt with me._ Ori sighed, feeling confused.

 

After breakfast there was a knock at the door. Dis opened it to see some dwarrows with a small donkey cart outside. 

 

“We’ve got a delivery from the seamstress of mithril miner’s row.” A burly dwarf said. Dis opened the door wider and indicated they should bring the packages in. After the couriers had left, Dis separated the packaged by owner. Ori’s pile was the largest by far, and he was shocked to see the amount of clothes Dis had purchased. He tried to protest, and insist at least half be returned, but Dwalin and Dis both shook off his arguments. Ori had another fight on his hands when he tried to help carry the packages home, when Dwalin seemed to take it as a point of pride that he could carry it all alone.

 

Dwalin carried them all the way to Ori’s room and dumped them on his bed. Once he was done, Dwalin moved to stand in the doorway, allowing Ori to have room to examine the packages.

 

“Surely this is too much!” Ori protested once again.

 

“Well, laddie, would ye expect me to leave you with what ye’ve got? Yer clothes are well made for clothes made at home, I won’t deny that. But what ye’ve got isn’t suited for a librarian, or for a a friend of princes.”

 

“I’m neither of those things,” Ori argued as he held up and examined a new winter coat.

 

“If Fili and Kili have their way ye’ll be thick as thieves by winter’s end, and ye’ll be a scholar at the library before the sun is set,” Dwalin replied.

 

“How can you be sure the library will take me? Dis isn’t…well she’s a lovely dam and from a good family, but with Fili she isn’t-” Ori cut himself off, not sure how to phrase it in a way that didn’t besmirch Dis. 

 

“Even if the grand-daughter of Thror isn’t enough to sway the head of the library, ye’ll get a place. I should be able to convince the chief librarian, since he owes such a favour to me as my mother’s uncle,” Dwalin replied, ignoring Ori’s insinuation about Dis’ honour.

 

Ori moved to the dresser in his room and dusted it off with an old tunic. He began to fill the drawers with his clothes, thinking about Dwalin’s statement. _Almost a third of dwarrows never have children, but any dwarrow with a sister is called upon to help educate and guard her children. In the merchant and mining class, though, maternal uncles seem to be teachers who also bring extra food around. It would make sense with more means and power the nobles would place a special importance on this relationship. But how is that kinship enough to guarantee me a place somewhere so impressive as Erebor’s library?_

 

“Is he aware you would want to call on him to employ the mother’s son you married?” Ori asked, hoping he managed to speak with something close to Dori’s icy cold tone.

 

_“_ I remind him of Fundin, so he and I don’t speak much. Uncle wouldn’t have heard we’re married, and unless I seek him out he probably would never learn of it. He likes Balin well enough, since Balin was the only one who took lessons with him. My uncle is a man of honour, and he’ll do his duty now, since he was never called on to when I was child. Even if that means he needs to take a mother’s son under his wing,” Dwalin replied. Dwalin’s voice was level, and he gave no hint as to why he and his uncle weren’t on speaking terms. Ori glanced over at his husband and saw he stood with his fists clenched.

 

“If I would cause you problems with your family, working at the library, I can always-” Ori began to offer, but was interrupted by Dwalin.

 

“It won’t cause any trouble. If my uncle likes ye, it might even fix some problems,” Dwalin insisted. Dwalin looked down at the ground, avoiding Ori’s eyes. He made some comment about changing, and then left Ori’s room, closing the door behind him.

 

Ori decided to change into a dark brown tunic and rust red trousers. He pulled on a pair of fingerless gloves from his older brother. Ori debated between wearing a cardigan or the new fall jacket Dis had ordered for him. Presentability won out over sentiment and Ori donned the brown jacket made of roughly felted wool. It hung straight down his body, ending just above his knees. Traditional angular patterns were embroidered around the cuff, hem and collar.

 

Ori left his room to find Dwalin waiting out in the hall. They made their way through Erebor to the libraries, walking down smoothly paved roads. Dwalin nodded at all the guards they passed, and stopped a few times to chat with them. They all looked at Ori with curiosity, trying to figure out who he was to the captain.One guard was so bold as to ask, and got a reprimand to mind his own business as a response. Throughout their walk Dwalin had a hand on Ori, though that hand migrated, sometimes it was around Ori’s shoulder, sometimes around his wrist, and sometimes it moved to Ori’s back. 

 

When they arrived at the library a scribe came up and asked if he could be of any help.

 

“Aye, I’d like to know where I could find Chief Librarian Helg, Son of Gilnar,”

 

“I’ll see if he is free. Who should I say wants to speak with him?” The scribe said primly. He looked the pair up and down as he spoke, his eyes resting on Ori’s tattered old boots.

 

“Dwalin, son of Fundin, captain of the guard. I’m Helg’s sister-son through Yila,” Dwalin replied sharply, putting the scribe in his place. The dwarrow jumped at Dwalin’s tone, and quickly went off in search of the Chief Librarian.

 

The scribe returned soon after with a broad white haired dwarrow. His beard was long enough to be tucked into his belt, and was braided neatly and intricately. He didn’t seem old enough to be of the same generation as Dwalin’s father, but he was certainly older than Dwalin. The librarian had a sour look on his face. He looked at Dwalin while he dismissed the scribe.

 

“Nephew, it’s been nearly a century since we last spoke,” he said by way of greeting. 

 

“Am I to take it you wish to call on me for a favour? I don’t know what I might do, though, for a son of Fundin,” Helg continued. He spat out the name Fundin like it was poison, and Ori looked over at Dwalin, bracing himself for the dwarf’s anger. To his surprise, Dwalin just looked resigned. 

 

“The one I would have you help is not son of Fundin, though he has married one,” Dwalin replied, and it was only after he did that Helg took note of Ori. The librarian examined the young dwarf, and his eyes rested on Ori’s hands. It would be hard to miss the callouses from holding a quill, or the ink stains on his fingerless gloves.

 

“We should move to my office. This is the sort of thing that should be discussed sitting down,” Helg said. He nodded his head towards a path to his left, and the three dwarves walked further into the library. Dwalin had to gently push Ori along a few times as stopped to take in all the books. If Helg noticed this behaviour, he didn’t speak of it. 

 

Once they reached his office, Helg closed the door behind them and indicated they all sit. 

 

“Balin never seemed the marrying type, so this young dwarrow must belong to you,” Helg said, looking only at Ori.

 

“He doesn’t belong to me. We’re just married, is all,” Dwalin replied angrily. His anger won a smile from Ori, who was pleased to hear Dwalin didn’t think of him like property. Helg didn’t look like he believed Dwalin, though. He looked at Ori for a moment more, and then stood up again. Helg bowed to the younger dwarf. 

 

“Helg, son of Ginar, at your service,” he said.

 

Dwalin made a disapproving noise at the merchant’s greeting. Helg sounded like Dori when he told Dwalin, “Unlike the rest of our peers I won’t pretend I’m a soldier to show my noble birth. Half the scribes here come from the merchant class, and I won’t hold with the nonsense of a noble’s greeting when the merchant’s introduction is much more civil.”

 

Before Dwalin could respond, Ori was on his feet bowing. 

 

“Ori, son of Riika, at your service,” Ori said, his face red to name himself thusly to someone who ran such a beautiful library. Helg sat down heavily and stared at Ori. The mother’s son sat down as well, and shrank into his seat under the librarian’s gaze.

 

“Riika, daughter of Riias? The princess’s playmate?” Helg asked sharply after a long silence, and he directed the question at Dwalin. However, Ori was the one to reply.

 

“Dis assures me she knew my mother, though my mother never spoke of her life in Erebor.”

 

Helg made a strangled sounding noise before asking, “You married the child of Dis’s playmate. You married a dwarrow young enough to be your child?” 

 

“He’s of age! And he’s passed his journey-dwarrow’s exams. By anyone’s standards he’s an adult,” Dwalin replied angrily.

 

“I suppose I should have expected you would take after your father in preferences. And you brought him here to, to what? Lord it over me that you’ve found a young lad to replace Yila in your home?” Helg said, his voice cracking half way through. Dwalin shrunk into his seat as though he’d been slapped. 

 

“If I were lookin’ to play house the same as my father did, I wouldn’t have brought him here for a job, would I?” Dwalin replied defiantly. Helg looked startled.

 

“A job?”

 

“Aye, he’s a scribe. T’would be cruel to have him cooped up in my apartments all day. He likes writing and drawing, and is damn good at it.”

 

“Yes. It would be cruel to keep a scholar away from books, intellectual discussion and their peers,” Helg replied, and the words were spoken with such feeling Ori doubted the two were still talking about him. Dwalin shifted in his seat under his uncle’s gaze.

 

“I know his mother makes it a bit…er…tricky to hire him, but surely all ye’d need to do is mention my name and any opposition would shut up,” Dwalin said, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. 

 

“If he’s got the talent, I’ll defend his placement on that alone,” Helg replied. He pulled out some sheets of paper from his desk, then stood to collect a few books from a shelf on his wall. He indicated that Ori move to sit at the desk, the placed the paper and books in front of him. Helg opened one book to an ancient form of Khuzul, and the other to a detailed drawing of the anatomy of a dwarf.

 

“Copy as close to the original as you can for both the drawing and the poem, then translate the poem. Once you are done that write out a critique of the main themes of the poem. From that I’ll judge where you’ll fit here or not,” Helg said. He placed an ink pot and quill on the table, then moved to the seat Ori had previously occupied. The young scribe nodded  and got to work. Ori didn’t seem to notice when Helg began speaking with Dwalin again.

 

“Perhaps your resemblance to Fundin is more superficial than I first thought,” Helg said apologetically. 

 

“He crafted me in his image, so I can’t blame ye for thinking I’d grow up to be him,” Dwalin replied. His gaze kept slipping to the side to stare at Ori as he worked. The scribe had shucked his jacket and rolled his sleeves up to work. Helg watched the interaction carefully.

 

“I’ve got the political clout to intervene in the lives of my workers, and my word carries significantly more weight than it did when you were young,” Helg said, his voice cold and angry.

 

“I brought him here so he wouldn’t be the second to fade away in sorrow,” Dwalin replied, answering the question Helg would never ask outright, “and I don’t intend to keep his brothers away as Fundin kept you from Mother.”

 

“I haven’t seen him around the mountain before, and I check all the scribe’s apprentices to see if they’re worth recruiting. He’s from Dale, isn’t he?”

 

Helg’s question was aimed at making Dwalin uncomfortable. It was damaging enough to Dwalin’s reputation if he married a _bastard_ for love, but a poor mother’s son was almost an unthinkable match for the second son of the head of the Longbeard clan.

 

“Aye. His brothers live there still, and Ori’s going to visit them tomorrow. Ye’d like the oldest one, he gave me the black eye I’m sporting,” Dwalin said with a grin. This seemed to render Helg speechless, since the librarian had expected a denial of Ori’s social standing. He certainly hadn’t expected any self-deprecating humour to come out of Dwalin’s mouth. Helg sighed and leaned on the arm of his chair with his head in one hand. Dwalin leaned back into his own chair and watched Ori work for a while, and the room fell silent. 

 

“I cannot make up for lost time,” Helg began, then stopped. Dwalin turned to look at his uncle and gave him a questioning look. 

 

Helg continued, “I cannot be the uncle I had hoped to be to my sister-sons when you and Balin were first born. I didn’t see Balin much after Fundin came home from war, and it was made clear to me that you were not to learn to love books as I and my sister did. If you and Balin would like to try and salvage what should have been, we could arrange dinner someday to catch up on the years past.”

 

“Now, after so many years? Ye’ve never liked me, and I don’t expect ye to for Ori or Balin’s sake,” Dwalin replied.

 

“I always thought you were a larger copy of Fundin. I’ve just been presented with evidence to the contrary, and I would like to reevaluate my opinion and our relationship based on that,” Helg replied. He didn’t meet Dwalin’s eyes as he spoke, and the twirled his beard. It was a gesture Dwalin’s mother made whenever she was worried Fundin was angry with her, and it was a gesture Dwalin was painfully well acquainted with.

 

“When Balin returns I’ll speak to him about setting a date,” Dwalin said, and was rewarded with an almost smile from his uncle.

 

Ori  was so focused on his work he only half-heard Helg and Dwalin continue to talk, and he didn’t think about the words they exchanged until much later. As soon as Ori finished his work he looked up at Helg, who came over to inspect the papers instantly.

 

“Your handwriting certainly is better than most your age, as is your sketching. Your copying skills are impeccable, and I could set you to work without a supervisor,” Helg said as he scanned the pages. Ori glowed under the praise.

 

“Your interpretation certainly could use work, but you’ve never worked as a scholar, so that’s to be expected. Creating original illuminated letters is also something you should work on,” Helg continued, and Ori began to sink into his seat. Helg looked at him and was quick to reassure Ori.

 

“You’re certainly better than most when they begin work here, and from the look of you a full decade or two younger. You can spend the first hour of your work day in lessons with me or another senior academic. I can clear my schedule for today and we can go over your duties, set you up with a mentor, and perform the usual basic introductory tasks,” Helg offered.

 

“I’m hired?” Ori asked breathlessly.

 

“You are. It’s a shame I rarely leave the mountain. If I spent more time searching Dale for recruits I might have found you sooner,” Helg replied. He then looked at Dwalin and asked, “I’ll assume you need to work? What time will you come collect Ori?”

 

“It depends, I suppose,” Dwalin replied, and turned to look at Ori, “Would ye rather spend all afternoon here, or would ye like to watch yer older brothers yell at me?”

 

“Oh, ah,” Ori paused, looking between Dwalin and Helg, “Can I just give you a note to pass on to Dori? If he has news from me he’ll be less likely to hit you again. I can’t make any promises about Nori, though,” Ori replied.

 

Helg looked back and forth between the new couple and Dwalin looked him in the eye and said, “We eloped.”

 

“Ah. I can see how that would be upsetting for a pair of older brothers,” Helg replied, “At least you’re taking responsibility for it and meeting with his brothers.”

 

Dwalin’s chest puffed up at the light praise, “Aye, I suppose so.”

 

Helg sent Ori back to the desk to write a quick letting for Dori.

 

_Dear Dori,_

 

_I’m well, and shall visit tomorrow. Dwalin offered to bring me today, but I’ve just been given a position at the Library in Erebor. Dwalin’s uncle is the chief librarian, who seems to have taken an interest in mentoring me! I’m sorry for worrying you, but we both know this isn’t a chance I can spit on. I am completely unharmed and Dwalin hasn’t done more than touch my arm or back, and never with violence. It’s true I wear a bead he’s braided into my hair. I’ll speak with you more about this marriage when I see you. Tell Nori to stop being as dramatic as an elf, and that staying in bed does me no good. He’d be better off looking for some sort of legitimate work._

 

_Love,_

 

_Ori_

 

Ori folded the paper and Helg offered him wax to seal it. Dwalin took the letter and tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket, then said his farewells. Ori was left with Helg, who started by giving him a tour of the library. While they walked through the seemingly endless stacks of books Helg spoke of the scholarly work done in the library. Ori barely noticed the time pass, stopping only for a quick lunch with his new mentor. Once evening came Dwalin arrived to take him home. Ori was relieved to see he had no new bruises. Ori walked home light as a cloud, thinking of a lifetime spend in the library. He didn’t notice how little Dwalin talked beyond his initial questioning about whether Ori enjoyed his time in the library. He only half noticed the smile of Dwalin’s face, though his mind kept turning back to books, so he didn’t consider the cause. Once again they had dinner with Dis the two retired to Dwalin’s apartments.

 

“I’ll make us some tea,” Dwalin said once he had ushered Ori in the door. It was too early to sleep, and Dwalin seemed to want to spend the rest of his evening with Ori. Instead of heading to the living room, Ori followed Dwalin into the kitchen. He watched in silence as Dwalin went about making tea, and followed the older dwarf into the living room once the kettle had boiled and the teapot filled. Dwalin placed two mugs on the small stone table, and sat the tea pot down nearby to allow the leaves to steep. 

 

Dwalin sank into a well-padded armchair on one side of the table, and Ori chose the chair opposite to sit on. Dwalin didn’t speak for a long moment, so Ori decided to break the silence.

 

“Your visit with Dori must have gone well,” he said.

 

“What makes ye say that?” Dwalin asked.

 

“Well, your eyes still don’t match,” Ori replied. Dwalin grinned at him, a response Ori couldn’t understand.

 

“He’s got a good arm. If he ever showed an interest, he’d easily rise up ranks quickly as a guard,” Dwalin said.

 

“Except for our mother.”

 

“I’d not hold it against him. If he was anything like Dis told me Riika was like, he’d be an asset.”

 

“Nori’s most like mum, always on the go,” Ori replied sadly, “though I can’t remember much of her when she was like that. She spent her last few years half asleep.”

 

Dwalin reached out, but pulled his hand back half way across the table. He rested his forearm on the side of the chair and clenched his fists, then let his hands open again.

 

“If he aimed his talents elsewhere, he’d do well. But ye can’t change someone who doesn’t want to change,” Dwalin said in a conciliatory tone, “I’ve seen enough families come to collect their kin crying and wailing, and those tears don’t reach the criminal’s eyes until they want to be something more than their bail costs.”

 

“He just needs an adventure, and there’s isn’t a war on, so he’s out of luck.” 

 

“What would you call his relationship with Dori then? I’ve seen war, lad, and their fights come pretty close.” Dwalin said with a half-smile. It shocked a laugh out of Ori.

 

“I suppose I should congratulate you for enduring Dori’s anger two nights running,” Ori replied, his laughter calmed into a grin.

 

“I’ll endure it as many nights as it takes for your brother to know yer safe with me. I’ve faced down orc packs, Dori isn’t much worse.”

 

“He’s the strongest dwarrow in Dale, as far as I know. He’s won the weight-lifting contest a few years running,” Ori said proudly.

 

“I’d heard, the market guards groaned about it for weeks,” Dwalin replied. He leaned forward to pour the tea, serving Ori first. Ori seemed chuffed to hear that others had gossiped about his elder brother’s ability. Ori reached out for his mug and cradled it in his hands. The tea smelled stronger than he usually made it, though tea was one of the few luxuries Dori refused to scrimp on. ‘ _It’s always better to have one good cup than two cups of love by the riverside’_ Ori thought to himself as he sipped the too strong tea. Dwalin started down at his own mug, then began speaking agin. 

 

He didn’t look up as he asked, “If I’d — if I’d come calling without this whole business with Nori, how long would you have expected to walk out with me before making a decision?”

 

Ori startled at the question and some of the tea sloshed over the sides of his mug onto his fingerless mittens. He could feel the warm dampness seep down to his skin as he started at Dwalin. The older dwarrow’s shoulders were hunched, and he still wasn’t looking up.

 

“Never mind, lad, if ye—“

 

“Two years. Ah. Well, that’s what Dori seemed to think was the bare minimum for proper,” Ori said quickly, interrupting whatever Dwalin had been about to say. The guardsdwarrow looked over at Ori at last, and the scribe paused for a moment.

 

“I hadn’t given it much thought, I’d always assumed I’d figure it out once I got my mastery,” Ori continued sheepishly. 

 

“Oh,” Dwalin replied. His hand reached up to touch his black eye, and his face flashed with guilt. _Age, that was the only specific thing he mentioned yesterday when talking about Dori. Oh Aulë, Dwalin must have taken what I said as a confirmation._

 

“Well, no one would think of taking walks with me unless I had my mastery in scrivening. How else would I prove I wasn’t a good-for-nothing like my da?” Ori said with a feigned air of disinterest. Dwalin looked at him sharply, and Ori began to wonder if any of his old pain seeped through into his voice, but Dwalin’s hand had moved back to his tea mug, so Ori decided his diversion was a success. 

 

“I”d have — that is to say, with Dis and Fili I can’t really — uh” Dwalin struggled for worlds, and Ori felt something queer in his chest. 

 

“It’s a blessing to be in the company of dwarrows who don’t snicker when they think I’m not looking,” Ori interrupted. Dwalin seemed glad not continue, so he just nodded and said nothing.

 

“It’s something to talk about, then, with Dori. Ye deserve better than what ye got, and I’ll find a way of making that right,” Dwalin said after the silence had stretched to an uncomfortable length. Ori was half done his tea, and was surprised yet again by Dwalin’s words.

 

“Well, a place working in the library is certainly more than I’d ever let myself dream about, let alone lessons with the chief librarian,” Ori replied.

 

“We’d best get to sleep then. Ye don’t want to be tired tomorrow,” Dwalin said. He took Ori’s mug and returned it to the kitchen. Ori trailed along with intentions of cleaning, but Dwalin insisted her needn’t bother. Dwalin rinsed out the teapot in a basin that had _running water_ , and from the steam rising, that water came out warm. Ori suddenly thought of warm baths that didn’t first require him to haul water from the well down the street and heat it in the kitchen. _I’ll ask about baths tomorrow,_ Ori thought as Dwalin shooed him down the hall. His husband bowed in the hallway between their rooms, then went into his own room. 

 

When Ori retired to his bed, he lay awake thinking of his day, instead worrying about Dwalin entering his room as he’d done the last two nights. _He seems much gentler than I first thought. Though I wonder what he was so cryptic about when he was talking with Helg? The librarian certainly thought terribly of Fundin, and Dwalin by extension. I wonder what happened to cause such hate._ Ori tried to recall what the older dwarrows were speaking of while Ori was translating the poem, but he had only remembered snatches of the conversation. From the sounds of it Helg was worried Dwalin would be a bad husband, because Fundin had not given his wife enough freedom. _Something to ask Dwalin about later, once I know him better,_ Ori decided, before falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Steerpike13713 for beta'ing, general helpfulness and listening to plot rants! I wouldn't be able to post it so soon without the help.
> 
> Also thanks to Leaper182 for listening to me plan out overly extensive headcannons.


	6. Brothers-In-Law

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Steerpike13713 for putting in the time and effort to help me beta this chapter, providing excellent feedback and needed edits.

Dwalin woke Ori up in time to have a quick breakfast together, just the two of them, before walking Ori to the library. Ori wore yet another new tunic with a different pair of pants, this time dressing himself in brown and a muted red that reminded him of Nori. It was odd for him to have a yet another set of new clothes, as he was used to hand-me-downs from his older brothers, or clothes bought second hand from the rag shop at the edge of the market place. _Just the clothes I wore yesterday would have been a treat, let alone owning enough clothes so I can wear something completely different for an entire week. The only new clothes I’ve ever gotten made for me were sweaters and gloves from Dori._ At that thought he looked around for his fingerless gloves from Dori, then slipped them on his hands as a reminder of his visit home at the end of the day. Dwalin looked at him for a moment, admiring him in his new clothes, before reaching for Ori’s hair. “I’d best redo this, before it falls out,” Dwalin said, holding the braid he’d woven the marriage bead in. Ori nodded and kept still as Dwalin repeated the ritual from three days prior; though this time he felt no fear.

 

It was another day with the upper city guard for Dwalin, and Ori was glad to have a guide on the way to the library. They stopped briefly at a street vendor selling meat pies, which Dwalin bought for Ori to take with him for lunch, before choosing bread-wrapped sausages for his own lunch. Dwalin promised to meet him at the end of the work day before leaving Ori at the entrance of the library. Ori spent his his morning at the library being quizzed on the layout by Helg. Once the chief librarian was sure of Ori’s ability to navigate the halls of books he turned to instructing Ori in the arts of interpretation and critique.

 

“Scholarly work depends on your ability to understand hidden meaning in great poetic works, and your ability to scrutinize the historians of the past. Should you take to these two arts quickly, I will assign you language classes with one of the senior librarians. I would like to know how high a workload you can tolerate before sending you off to learn more than Khuzdul and Westron, though both will serve you well for your future career. Now, your next week will be consumed with reading this stack of books which deal with basic scholarly work,” Helg paused to select books off of a shelf and hand them to the young scribe, “compare the various techniques in your own words in at least twenty feet of parchment - we’ve got some of the rougher stuff made by apprentices for you to work with. I’ll bring some over once I’ve assigned you a desk.”

 

Helg left most of the carrying to Ori, though he did hold onto the few books that would not fit in Ori’s arms. He led Ori past the shelves to a hall with many lamps and windows on one side covered by thick sheets of glass. Each desk had a bookshelf next to it; all of them were short and wide and faced towards the chairs tucked behind the desks. Helg walked down the hall until he reached one of the older looking desks with no papers on it, and no books in its accompanying shelf. 

 

“This desk will be yours until you are promoted to a private office. This is where all the other seventh rank librarians work, along with those above you in the sixth rank. Once you’ve become a librarian of fifth rank you are granted privacy for your work. Most take at least a decade to achieve such a rank, assuming they make it through the probation period, though your talent may take you there sooner.” Held said kindly as he placed his two books on the small shelf beside the desk. Ori placed his books there as well, and then followed Helg to the office which supplied the parchment for the librarians. He was shown how to order amounts, sign for them, then given a list of what grade of parchment was required for various assignments around the library. 

 

Ori was then left alone for the afternoon to compare two styles of literary critique of ancient ballads: one which focused on the text independent of context and the second which insisted ballads were historically and situationally embedded and that needed to be a primary focus of any critique. As he read through these books, other seventh rank librarians began to trickle into the hall. They all looked at him curiously as they returned from their lunch break. Ori had eaten quickly and neatly at his desk before starting his work, and was careful to make sure no crumbs escaped the handkerchief the pie was wrapped in. He guessed based on the quiet conversations between the dwarrows returning in groups of two or three that many of them already knew each other well.

 

 Ori ignored them, since he doubted he would find close friends here. Even if many were from the upper merchant class, few would lower themselves to be friends with a mother’s son. He resolutely ignored them as he took down important page numbers with very short notes to later put into his report for Helg. The occasional titter got much louder once Ori had gotten half way through the second book. The whispers were loud enough to draw his attention away from his book, and he saw Dwalin in the hall looking very out of place. The guard did his best to walk quietly as he made his way to Ori’s desk. Ori had managed to put his quill, ink and paper away by the time Dwalin reached him. As Ori was putting his books away Dwalin said “We’re to visit yer brothers for dinner soon, I hope ye don’t mind leaving early.”

 

Dwalin’s voice was quieter than normal, but noticeably louder than volume used by the other librarians. Ori just nodded and gestured towards the door. Dwalin placed his hand briefly on Ori’s shoulder before making his way back to the exit, Ori following close on his heels. Once they were out of the library Dwalin spoke again, “I’d rather not risk yer brother’s anger by being late.”

 

This surprised a laugh out of Ori. “Lad, I’m fairly sure if yer second brother had the chance to knife me he’d take it, consequences be damned. Ye didn’t see the look on his face before I went to, ah, after I let him go.” Dwalin said, stumbling over the words at the end of his explanation. 

 

“I was expecting worse than what you’ve done, and I imagine Nori was the same. Once I explain things he’ll calm down.” Ori replied. Guilt flashed through Dwalin’s face, and Ori wondered if he ought to have blunted his words. _Well, Dwalin must know what this would look like to an outsider_ , Ori reasoned, refusing to feel guilty or offer an apology for his words. He chose instead to chat about his day at the library, and how he enjoyed the work. Ori's enjoyment of his new position put a calm smile back onto Dwalin’s face. His smile lasted until they’d passed the marketplace in Dale, when Dwalin's expression transformed into an anxious countenance. 

 

Ori reached over and touched Dwalin’s wrist. The guard startled for a moment, then directed a small grin towards Ori. _I don’t think I’ve initiated any of our contact as of yet,_ Ori thought to himself before speaking. “I’m sure Dori will just want to talk this whole business through. If he didn’t believe you after your last two visits he probably wouldn’t have let you leave with just a black eye.”

 

“That’s very reassuring, Ori.” Dwalin replied dryly. Ori grinned at him, winning a weak smile. The pair continued walking in silence until they reached Ori’s former home. Ori pulled out his key and unlocked the front door. As soon as he was inside he was tackled Dori and lifted into a tight hug.

 

“Oh, I’ve missed you. Nori’s been absolutely dreadful moping about since you didn’t come home.” Dori said. Ori’s cheeks were stained with pink by the time Dori put him down, but he had a wide grin on his face from seeing his elder brother. 

 

“I’ve put dinner on, why don’t you go upstairs and get your brother. Perhaps Mister Dwalin would like to help me set the table?” Dori asked, though his question had only one answer. Dwalin nodded and followed Dori down the left hall to the kitchen. Ori went down the right hall to where the bedrooms were. They’d partitioned off the master bedroom into two rooms, one for Ori and one for Dori. Nori had his own room to prevent his late nights from disturbing his other brothers’ sleep. Ori was glad to be in the home he and his brothers had moved in to soon after his mother passed away; it was the home he had the warmest memories of, and the happiest time in. Ori pushed on the old wooden board that served as a door for Nori and found his elder brother lying on the mattress on the floor that served as a bed.

 

“I didn’t fully believe Dori when he said you’d been in bed since you returned from prison, but here you are still. You're as dramatic as any elf ever was, just like Dori said” Ori murmured in awe. Nori saw him and bounded out of his bed to wrap his arms around Ori.

 

“Did that bastard let ye go at last? Dori said he’d married you, but I saw how he was looking and — well” Nori asked. 

 

“Well, you see, Nori he has not done what we both thought he would and — well I am married to him,” Ori replied into his brother’s shoulder.

 

Nori pulled back a bit to look at Ori’s hair. Upon seeing the marriage bead, he groaned. 

 

“So he can have you whenever he wants to?” Nori growled before releasing Ori and moving towards the door. Ori reached out and grabbed Nori’s arm.

 

“Look, he hasn’t — he hasn’t ‘had’ me or done anything else to harm me outside of having me live in his home. I don’t know why, and he certainly hasn’t told his friends how we were married. They all seem to think he asked me after being sweet on me for a long time, which apparently he was,” Ori tried to explain. Nori still had a thunderous look on his face, though he didn’t pull away from Ori’s arm.

 

“Nori, he’s gotten me a position in the library. Dwalin hasn’t said what I’m to do with the money, but I’d imagine he doesn’t care. I can send it home to Dori and you, so you two can move into a nice house and Dori can move his shop to a better part of the market. You can both live better for this,” Ori said.

 

“At what cost? Eventually he’ll expect more from you than company,” Nori argued.

 

“At whatever cost it takes. I was ready to pay it before, and I’m ready to pay it still. Dori has done so much for me, and I know the both of you went hungry when I was still growing. Dwalin certainly isn’t the worst husband I can imagine, even if I didn’t choose him for myself. With time he and I should grow accustomed to one another,” Ori replied with a shrug. 

 

“If he’d asked you without the threat of taking my arm off, you would never have said yes,”

 

“Well, we’ll never know that now, will we? If he’d come calling properly as he ought to have, I would have gone on walks with him at very least. It’s not every day that a noble shows interest in someone like me, not proper interest. And you always said he was painfully honest, so if he said he wanted to court me proper it would have been the truth. But we can never know if he’d have asked to go walking since you went and got caught for a thirteenth time,” Ori said in a low voice. Nori had the good grace to look ashamed at Ori’s closing line. 

 

“He is painfully honest, something he’s got in common with you, so you two might have made a good match in another life. Maybe not though, since you aren’t much like him in any other way,” Nori replied in a quiet voice. He offered a small smile before continuing, “If he’d come calling you would have had a choice, and you can’t tell me that isn’t something you would have preferred.”

 

Ori nodded at that and pulled his older brother close for a second hug. Nori patted the back of his head like he did when Ori was a child and was coming home after a merchant’s child had yelled insulting things at him. “I had dreams, you know, from time to time about having some proper dwarrow come by, and we’d go on walks and Dori would approve. It all would have followed all the proper times lines once I’d gotten my mastery in scrivening. I supposed I should have learned earlier from the way mother’s life ended that dreams don’t always end up the way you want,” Ori said softly.

 

“Dori and I could get you out of this. So long as you’re home, or hiding in the places I’ve hidden after certain jobs he wouldn’t be able to take you back under the mountain,” Nori offered.

 

“And how would a life in hiding be better? Nori, I’ve gotten a position at the library” Ori replied, his voice filled with awe as he mentioned his new job, “I’ve cleared your name and gone further with my career than I’d ever imagined. I won’t be writing and reading letters for copper bits and coal anymore. Dwalin, well, it’s a sacrifice to make but as of yet he hasn’t shown me the sacrifice won’t be worth it. We can argue about this after dinner, Dori’s probably expecting us.”

 

Nori made a rather unpleasant face, but pulled out of the second hug and went to open his door. He held it open for his brother, and then followed Ori down the hall and to the kitchen and dining area. They were one large room, with the kitchen by the outside wall. The stove was in the middle of the wall to warm both sides of the room. The left side of the room had a few old beaten up armchairs Nori had found being thrown away in the merchant quarter. By the window was Ori’s desk and wooden chair, where he used to work. The right side of the room had a large wooden table and mismatched chairs, and a cabinet for their pottery and plates. A long table was along the wall near the stove with basins of water for washing dishes, which got cold water from a cistern on the roof. The piping for that passed near the chimney in an attempt to bring it up from freezing cold to tolerably chilly.

 

Dwalin was sitting at the set table with his hands wrapped tightly around a mug of tea, and Dori sat across from him with a tight smile. “Ah, I see you’ve gotten Nori out of bed. I’ll just get the dinner on the table. I’ve made chicken egg-noodle soup,” Dori said. Ori broke out into a wide grin, glad to hear Dori had planned his favourite meal. He sat down next to Dwalin, and Nori sat in the free seat near Dori. He glared at Dwalin, who chose to keep his face as blank as possible.

 

“Dwalin has been suggesting a plan to remedy our current concerns about your recent nuptials,” Dori said as he served Ori first, then Nori. He went back for a second set of bowls. The spoons were already on the table, along with forks to eat the long, thick egg noodles. Dori passed Dwalin a bowl, and then sat down himself.

 

“Aye, that is, if it’s a plan yer happy with,” Dwalin said, looking at Ori. His hand reached for Ori briefly, but pulled back before making contact.

 

“What would that be?” Ori asked, taking a large mouthful of noodles.

 

“Well, I thought we’d make a trial of this marriage. Yer brother knows I haven’t told people about the conditions of our elopement because I don’t want yer status to hurt for it. So if we were to divorce it would have to seem real,” Dwalin began to explain.

 

“And if you two split up so soon after getting married it would look suspicious. And Dwalin has been very clear he does not want to hurt your position with the library,” Dori continued. Dwalin looked over at Dori, whose smile was still a cold polite mask. Ori took this as a good sign, because if Dori really had no concern for Dwalin’s feelings he would not have bothered faking a smile at all.

 

“So I thought we’d try for two years to see if ye can be happy with me. If at the end of it ye want to leave I’ll go to a magistrate and say I got drunk and slept with someone after I was on duty. The magistrate won’t refuse to strike down a marriage if one party openly admits to adultery,” Dwalin finished. Ori looked at him stunned.

 

“Wouldn’t that hurt your reputation, though?” Ori asked.

 

“Aye, but I did the harm by putting you in a spot where ye couldn’t say no to marrying me. Justice would demand I be the one to hurt if the marriage is not going to work out,” Dwalin replied, focusing on his soup.

 

“You should be the one to hurt even if the marriage did work out,” Nori muttered from across the table. Dwalin gave him a sharp look but said nothing.  

 

“Two years is a proper courting period, despite it being very improper to live with the one who is courting you” Dori said primly, ignoring Nori’s comment. 

 

“I, I like the sound of that plan,” Ori said after a long moment had passed. Dwalin beamed at him, Nori scowled, and Dori’s polite smile remained the same.

 

“I missed seeing you at dinner Dori,” Ori continued after another long silence passed. Dori’s smile warmed at his words.

 

“I’ve missed seeing you as well. Even when Nori isn’t rolling around as dramatic as an elf in bed, he rarely makes it to the dinner table at the same time we usually do. I don’t particularly look forward to eating alone as often as I will without you,” Dori replied.

 

“I can always walk Ori here more often if ye’d like, and work evening shifts instead of day or night shifts. It wouldn’t be too much trouble. Or I can walk him here before a night at the pub,” Dwalin offered earnestly. He paused briefly as Dori turned to look at him, but continued when he didn’t see the usual disapproval on the armorer’s face, “I usually just buy dinner on duty, so it would be better for Ori on nights when Dis isn’t cooking,” he finished.

 

“Is Dis your servant?” Dori inquired. Ori choked on his soup at the suggestion, coughing loudly as Dwalin replied.

 

“She’s Thorin Oakensheild’s sister, daughter of Thrain. She cooks for her two boys and her brothers, though not as often as she did when Fili and Kili were young. She’s always extended that invitation to Balin and me. Her eldest is, well, Dis never married his father so she’s not one to judge poorly on birth.” 

 

“She knew mother from childhood. She offered to tell me about your father, Dori,” Ori said in between his coughs. Once he had cleared his airways and blinked the tears out of his eyes, he saw the stricken look on Dori’s face.

 

“Well, if my father never saw fit to tell me about him on his own, I don’t particularly care to hear about him second hand, even if a princess is the one doing the telling,” Dori half growled. At the regretful look that spread across Ori’s face, his words softened. “If you do hear any interesting stories about mother’s life as a noblewoman, you should tell Nori and I one night. She never spoke about it with us when she was well enough to tell stories.”

 

Ori nodded. Dinner continued on from there with Dori interrogating Dwalin about the particulars of his job, and what he knew about corruption in the guard. Talking about his struggles to reduce corruption clearly made Dwalin uncomfortable, which caused Nori to interject with personal narratives. Some of them Dwalin rolled his eyes at, though others he responded to with questions about circumstances, and for the names of the guards involved. The latter response threw Nori off his guard every time he was met with it. After they all had their fill of soup Nori cleaned up the dishes. Dori bustled Ori away to his old room to pack up his few remaining books. Ori looked back at Dwalin and Nori as he left the dining area, and noted with amusement that the two regarded each other with equal suspicion. 

 

Once Dori had closed the cloth flap that served as a door to their split bedrooms he asked, “Are you sure he’s treating you well? He seems honest enough, even though his methods of courtship are abhorrent.”

 

“He is, Dori. Apparently there’s a law which allows guards to give a full pardon to their love’s family members as a wedding gift. It was the only way he could let Nori go in good faith,” Ori answered. 

 

“At least he’s consistent,” Dori grumbled, “If he ever seems to change, Nori could help keep you hidden, though it would cost you the library.”

 

“I’ve been given a desk as a librarian seventh rank. Helg, the chief librarian, thinks I can make it to fifth rank in under a decade,” Ori said happily, at the mention of the library. Dori wrapped the few books Ori owned in a blanket their mother had sewed. It was a small, poorly-designed quilt she’d made as a baby blanket for Ori. Inside this package Dori slipped in a new pair of fingerless gloves. When he saw Ori staring at them he said, “If I’d known you would be getting new clothes I would have picked a colour other than grey. Maybe next time I’ll make you some brown and red pairs.”

 

Ori chose to reply with a tight hug and a muffled ‘thank you’ said into Dori’s shoulder. Dori wrapped an arm around Ori’s shoulders and said, “Now be careful. Dis may be kind because of her past mistakes, but I doubt most nobles will be. If Dwalin is the sort he claims to be, just tell him of any unkind words and he’ll take deal with whoever said them. You’ve got neither the rank nor the brawn to do such a thing,” Dori paused and waited for Ori to nod his assent before continuing, “Now, shall we see if your new husband and second brother have managed to kill one another? It would make both our lives less difficult.”

 

The two brothers could hear Dwalin and Nori arguing as soon as they entered the hallway.

 

“— Cradle snatching guardsman” was all Ori heard from whatever Nori had been saying.

 

“If ye hadn’t been so stupid as to get caught _thirteen_ times, I wouldn’t have had to make the deal I did” Dwalin snarled back. Ori didn’t know what Nori had said in full, but it had certainly made Dwalin angry.

 

“You didn’t have to do anything! You only did what you wanted since you had your eye on Ori. I was prepared to pay the price!” Nori yelled.

 

“Aye, and broken poor Ori’s heart in the process? I’ve seen him take you home drunk often enough to know what it would have done to him. And aye, I had my eye on your brother, but I’ve not done a thing to hurt him, and if ye hadn’t gone and gotten caught I’d have come calling-” Dwalin cut himself short when he saw Ori and Dori watching them from the doorway. He clenched his jaw, and then bowed as the merchants did.

 

“Good day mister Nori. It appears as though our evening is done,” he said with an air of finality. Nori glared at him and did not return the gesture. Dori offered a small bow and thanked him for coming to dinner, and Dwalin replied with a deeper bow thanking for the invitation. He then reached to take the bundle from Ori’s hand, saying “I’ll carry that for ye, if ye want.” 

 

Ori handed it over, suspecting that Dwalin might feel hurt if his gesture was refused. Dori raised an eyebrow at him from behind Dwalin’s shoulder, and Ori replied with a slight shrug of his shoulders. Dori saw the two of them to the front door, and watched as they walked down the street towards the mountain. Once Dori was out of earshot Dwalin said, “That certainly went better than expected.”

 

“How so?” Ori asked, startled.

 

“Nori only threatened to stab me. I expected him to actually try,” Dwalin replied. After a long moment Dwalin grinned at Ori, who then realized Dwalin was half joking and laughed. Dwalin spoke of the more interesting threats he’d received over his years as a guard, which kept Ori in high spirits until they reached Dwalin’s home. As they passed through the empty market Dwalin reached out to place an arm over Ori’s shoulders, and Ori decided that after Dwalin’s two year proposal that he wouldn’t try and shrug the older dwarrow’s arm off. Once they were at Dwalin’s apartments, Dwalin repeated his farewell and goodnight before handing Ori his books back and heading into his own room. Ori lay in bed thinking on Dwalin’s promise as he fell asleep. _Could I come to want a marriage with Dwalin in two years time? I wouldn’t need to worry about my position at the library from what Helg has said, so it would be for the companionship. Dwalin certainly is attractive enough, but what else do we have to build a marriage on? I suppose I’ll figure that out over the next few months._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. Essay season and exam season hit me hard, so I'm really sorry this took so long to get out. Hopefully once the summer starts I can be more regular with my output! Thank you all for your patience and interest in this fic


	7. Meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to leaper182 for all her help with characterization plotting and betaing (especially with commas), and to Steerpike13713 for her effort in betaing and helping me fix some rather egregious sentences and for her very clear footnotes.

 

Ori’s second day at the library was not as quiet as his first. He was earlier than most of the other scribes in his position to arrive that day, since Dwalin’s shift starter earlier than that of junior librarians. Arriving early left him alone in the hall for a long enough stretch of time that he could finish the book he had been working on the day before. As the other scribes began to trickle in, Ori began to realize he was an object of fascination for his new peers. Those who worked further down the hall from him were rarely subtle as they examined his desk as they passed. He could feel stares on the back of his neck from those who worked further up the hall, though he made a point of not looking back. This continued for a short time after the hall was filled. The obvious staring ended when a more senior librarian, a fourth rank one from the look of his braided beads, came into the hall and commented loudly on how quietly the younger librarians seemed to write, and how subtle the whisper of their quills against parchment sounded to his old ears. A flurry of scratching strokes erupted as this older librarian made his way down the hall. 

The fourth rank librarian stopped when he got to Ori’s desk. Ori looked up at him, not entirely sure what was expected of him, and the older librarian said nothing.

“Can I help you, sir?” Ori asked. 

“May I?” The librarian asked, gesturing towards Ori’s writing. Ori handed his parchment over to the librarian and placed his quill in its holder. The librarian examined his writing closely and hummed in curiosity. “And you were trained in Dale?” he asked, though he did not wait for an answer before saying, “I’d never have guessed. Your work is better than most of the scribes we’re getting out of the schools for the lower noble houses, and you’re much younger than any journeydwarrow I’ve ever seen apprenticed to a merchant’s scrivener. I suppose needing the money adds incentive to learning the work well.”

He handed the parchment back to Ori and continued his examination of the first seventh rank scribes. Ori kept his head down as he went back to work, seeing a few angry glares from the scribes across the hall from him.  Ori was suddenly reminded of when he started his apprenticeship in Dale, and knew the older librarian’s praise had done him no favours. 

Ori continued to focus on his work he heard the other scribes get up and go out to lunch, doing his best to ignore the whispers that followed them out the door.

“He must be fantastic in bed, to have gotten a son of Fundin to marry him,” one dwarrow announced loudly as he passed by Ori’s desk. Ori resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _There’s nothing worse than a stupid bully_ , Ori thought to himself as he waited for the room to clear. _If they continued on as this first fellow is, they won’t even have the excuse of plausable deniability. There’s no chance a senior librarian would believe they hadn’t meant me to hear._ Ori mused about the advantages of less intelligent harassers as his new peers left the hall.One dwarrow stayed back, however, leaning on the desk across from Ori’s staring at him. The youth had shaved half his blond hair off, and had traditional runes for family and protection embroidered in gold on the hems of all his clothes. _A noble,_ Ori thought glumly.

“Is it true, then, that you’re married to the captain of the city guard?” the scribe spoke, and the softness of the voice startled Ori. The voice could only belong to a dwarrowdam, though few ever bore shorn hair for oaths of sacrifice; those oaths tended to be made by dwarrows seeking honour or vengance. _I wonder what kind of oath she made that binding the oath with burned locks was required,_ Ori wondered, knowing he’d probably never find out.

“Yes, it is,” Ori replied cautiously. The dwarrowdam broke out into a broad smile.

“Oh, thank goodness. I think you’re the only one out of all the dwarrows in our rank,” 

“Ah, and that’s a good thing?” Ori asked, not entirely sure what she was getting at. 

“Well, my grandfather won’t let me be friends with any unmarried dwarrow, and the only other dams who are seventh rank are here for illustration — not that I have anything about illustrators - and these three have great aesthetic skill and appreciation. However, they have little intellectual curiosity. The only other dams that are interesting are in upper ranks, and it’s nigh impossible to get to know them when I’m just a seventh,” the dwarrowdam explained. She moved closer and pulled the chair from the desk in front of Ori’s towards his table.

“I’ll take it you’re eating in here? I tend to bring my lunch and eat out on a terrace, but I can stay inside just as easily.”

Ori wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. Her clothes indicted she was from a family with status, yet she was being friendly with a poor dwarrow. He decided to introduce himself and get the usual reaction over with before he became attached. He stood up, then bowed.

“Ori, son of Riika, at your service.”

“Oh, how thoughtless of me, forgetting introductions,” the dwarrowdam replied as she scrambled to stand up.

“Kylasa, daughter of Rikras, at yours.”

She sat back down, then pulled a small parcel out of the inside pocket of her coat. Ori sat down, surprised by her response. It must have shown on his face, because she looked at him for a moment, and then narrowed her eyes.

“I hope you weren’t expecting me to respond as those philistines who left earlier might have when hearing of your mother. I’ve always held the mind matters more than the blood. If you’d met the children I had to play with when I was younger, you’d feel the same way. And what my grandfather doesn’t know can’t get me in trouble,” she finished with a smile. 

“I’m, well, I’m not used to people who don’t care. Well, people who aren’t in the more dubious professions, that is,” Ori replied. He saw her unwrap the package, which turned out to be a a pasty much like the ones Dwalin was fond of getting before work. She pulled a few more food items out of her various pockets before Ori scrambled to assemble his own lunch on his desk. 

“So, what was it like to live topside, in Dale? I rarely go further outside than a terrace.” She asked.

Ori thought for a moment before replying.

“Well, weather matters more. I’ve not really had to consider what the weather’s like before leaving for work under the mountain, but topside, if you don’t dress the right way you can spend the day rather uncomfortable.” 

His response won a thoughtful look, than a few more questions. She left after they were done eating to grab a small book from her own desk, and then returned, taking notes ‘for research’ as she asked further questions.

A few of the seventh ranked scribes started to trickle back in, a few giving dirty looks to the pair as they did. A few raised their eyebrows, or nodded their heads in acknowledgement, reactions which led to her dragging them over and introducing them to Ori. Those who gave Ori dirty looks Kylasa ignored. She whispered across to him as a particularly sour fellow passed by “they can’t say much to my face about it, you see, since my father due to inherit grandfather’s title. I suppose they might try and get even by ruining my supplies, but I’ve got older brothers so they’ll regret it if they try!”

This startled a laugh out of Ori, who thought of his older brothers’ defensive behaviour. _I really should tell her about Nori’s revenge on the merchant’s sons_ , Ori thought as she slipped away to her own table. 

At the end of the day she walked out of the library with him, gossiping about the unseemly habits of those who had been making unpleasant comments throughout the day as they passed by Ori’s desk. Dwalin was in his guard’s uniform by the entrance of the library, standing awkwardly still as scribes passed him. Kylasa introduced herself with a bow to Dwalin, earning a sharp look that Ori couldn’t decipher. She walked with them past the first set of guards in the nobles’ district, then turned away to walk down one of the streets that housed higher noble clans. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ori. You’d best be ready to answer some questions about thieves’ ‘cant’,” she said with a smile as she hurried off. 

“She seems nice,” Dwalin said with a suspicious level of disinterest.

“Her grandfather won’t let he be friends with unattached dwarrows, and I think she finds the other dams in our rank boring,” Ori replied.

“Aye, her grandfather would think that,” Dwalin replied sourly.

“Do you know him?”

“Aye, and he was very vocal in his disapproval of Dis and Fili,” Dwalin replied. Ori placed one hand on Dwalin’s forearm.

“I’m fairly sure Kylasa doesn’t share those attitudes. She has a rather intense interest in the life of those topside with less money. I suspect it’s due to a cross between her grandfather’s disapproval and a need to know everything.”

“And curiosity is something you know little about?” Dwalin asked teasingly. 

“Dori impressed upon me that good manners dictate one must be more subtle in their curiosity,” Ori replied in a mock-haughty tone, winning a grin from Dwalin. 

Dwalin made a noise that made his thoughts on manners clear as he unlocked the door, though he stood still once opened it. 

“Dwalin, what —“Ori began to ask before he saw another dwarrow standing in the entrance hall.

“Brother, how good to see you. Dis tells me you’ve gotten married,” he said in a wry tone. The snowey whiteness of his beard and hair placed him as Dwalin’s elder. _It’s only fair that I go through the same ordeal as Dwalin,_ Ori thought to himself as he tried not to stare at Dwalin’s brother. The older dwarrow tilted his head as he inspected Ori. 

“You must be Ori, I’m pleased to welcome you into the family. Unfortunately, I’ll need to have a word alone with Dwalin about making hasty decisions.”

“Balin, can’t this wait?” Dwalin asked, and was only given a sharp look as a reply. Dwalin turned to Ori and said, “I hate to ask this of ye, but would ye mind giving us some time to talk?”

“Oh, I’ll just go read in my room,” Ori replied, giving Balin a quick bow as he passed by him. He sat down in his room and did his best not to eavesdrop while reading one of the books that had belonged to Dwalin’s mother. This became hard to continue when he heard raised voices. _Well, the conversation is about me, it would probably serve me well to know what they’re talking about_ , Ori thought as he moved closer to the door so he could hear more clearly. 

“How can you be so calm about this? Don’t you realize how this would affect a boy of his standing?” Balin asked with clear frustration. 

“Dis married for the family good, and only the character of her spouse was the problem. I don’t see how that’s much different,” Dwalin replied mulishly. 

“Aye, and she was raised to marry for the family good, which for her was the good of Erebor. That’s how she came to be married to a foreign princeling she barely knew. Such a marriage would be untenable for a boy of his station. I know from my time in the courts of Dale they don’t marry to satisfy their elders, or build alliances between clans and kingdoms. They marry mainly for love and companionship.”

“I — oh.” Dwalin replied, his voice dropping off as the implications became clearer. Ori had to strain to hear what Balin said next.

“With luck we would marry Thrain did, or when with poor luck we might have married as mother did. In the lower city it’s love that’s the focus first, not something to gain after. Families are much more willing to take their children back if the marriage goes sour.”

“That explains his brother’s response more clearly, I suppose” Dwalin replied.  

“Why did you think they were so angry?” Balin replied sarcastically. Dwalin mumbled something Ori couldn’t hear, which won a laugh out of Balin. 

“Well, the arrest would explain the middle brother’s response, but if Dori is anything like his father he’d have thought Nori had it coming to him.”

Dwalin mumbled yet again, and Balin replied in a much quieter tone. Ori shifted, pressing closer to the door, but he still couldn’t make out what they were saying. He stayed like that for a few more minutes before he heard a chair scrape against the floor followed by loud footsteps. He rushed away from the door, and picked up the book yet again before reclining on his bed. He heard a knock on his door, and called out, “Yes?” 

Dwalin opened his door and looked at him a moment, frowning. He ran his hand through his hair twice before saying, “Dis said she’d be havin’ the brothers of the mining lass Frerin likes over for dinner. Maybe her da’ too, if he’s up for company.” 

“Why wouldn’t he be up for company?” Ori asked as he put the book away.

“Some old injury from time as a foot soldier, from what Dis said,” Dwalin answered. When Ori walked through the doorway, Dwalin stepped back to give him room. He continued to stay at least a foot’s distance as they made their way through the hall towards Balin. 


	8. Cousins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank Leaper182. This chapter would be shorter and lower quality without her amazing help and betaing. I really appreciate the effort and time she put in to help me get this done.

Dwalin didn’t touch Ori at all during the trip to Dis’ apartments, and had little to say about his day.

 

“Dwalin tells me our uncle has agreed to take you on at the library,” Balin said, smiling warmly.

 

“Ah, yes. He thinks I’m more advanced than most of the incoming seventh ranked librarians,” Ori replied warily. _Is it worse to be a braggart, or mining for compliments?_ Ori wondered to himself as he tried to gauge Balin’s reaction. _Well, Dwalin must have explained the situation, and with luck, he’ll know I’m not in this just for Dwalin’s money. Surely staying with someone for a job is sufficiently different than for their own money?_

 

Balin showed no signs of disapproval, but merely hummed thoughtfully. He was silent for a moment before turning to his brother and saying, “It’s good to see that this event has brought you closer to Helg. I think I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve spoken with him without me prodding you into it.”

 

“Ye were the one studying law and always writing some contract or treaty. I never had much to speak with him about until recently,” Dwalin replied with his eyes focused on the road ahead of him.

 

“Aye, that is true,” Balin said quietly, and reached out to place a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

 

Dwalin shrugged Balin’s hand off, and continued to stare ahead of them to avoid seeing Balin’s concerned face.

 

When they arrived at Dis’ apartments, Fili was waiting outside, pacing back and forth in front of the entrance.

 

“Oh, Mahal bless. You’ve arrived!” Fili said, sounding slightly strangled.

 

“Aye, what’s the matter? We can’t be late enough to have set your mother off,” Balin asked.

 

“Oh, not much really. Just that the miners seem to think Frerin is a terrible candidate for husband when they didn’t two weeks ago, one of them seems to only speak iglishmek,and the other two who talk don’t look like they’ll give permission. Frerin’s a mess, Thorin’s not here yet, but doubtless he’ll be enraged if mum is, but she can’t figure out if she should be frustrated or amused, and--” Fili said, speeding up as he continued to list the problems. Dwalin cut him off before he could continue.

 

“And yer hoping Balin will be able to sweet-talk them around?”

 

“No! Gods above, that would make it worse. Their father — cousin —  well, it’s complicated. Anyway, he served under Thrain, and I think he was in your company. He might be more at ease knowing you think Frerin’s a decent dwarrow.”

 

“Foolish,” Dwalin corrected.

 

“Foolish but decent?” Fili asked, with a smile. He ran his hand through his long hair a few times, then clasped his hands together behind him as Dwalin considered his words.

 

After Balin elbowed him, Dwalin said, “Of course Frerin’s a decent fool, and more, he’s beyond decent. If he commits to something, he means it, even if it takes him half an age to commit in the first place.”

 

Fili smiled a more genuine smile as he pushed open the door to the apartments, saying over his shoulder, “I think you’ll like Bofur and Bombur, Dwalin, they’ve got nearly as much tact as you do.”

 

Balin smiled broadly, then smoothed his mouth over with one hand.

 

 _Bofur and Bombur? With a relative who only speaks iglishmek? What are the odds it’s the same two who have me write up letters to send on to the Ered Luin? Bifur isn’t totally mute -- he speaks ancient Khuzdul, like the priests. These are common names for miners._ Ori thought to himself as he entered behind Balin. He went to stand by Dwalin, who resolutely kept his hands clenched by his sides _._ Ori moved closer to him, only to have his new husband shuffle away from him. _Oh, fantastic. Now I’ll have to make up some story about a lover’s spat to Dis until Dwalin comes to his senses about whatever Balin said to him._

 

Ori chose not to show any sign that he’d noticed Dwalin’s behaviour, and instead walked beside the guardsdwarrow until they’d reached the sitting room. Two of the mining dwarrows, dressed in clean but well-used clothes sat near the fireplace. Dis, who stood near to them, raised her hand in greeting. The third dwarrow of Amifer’s family, and a very pretty dam, Amifur, sat on a couch with Frerin. Ori recognized the elder brother immediately, and felt a small amount of pride seeing the fingerless gloves and scarf the dwarrow wore. _Dori is going to be so pleased to hear Bofur thought his knitwear was fine enough for meeting royalty._ Dori had exchanged the knits two years past for coal during a cold snap. Bofur’s leather hat, Ori knew, was a inherited from his and Bombur’s father. His brother Bombur was portly, with a long red beard looped around to about his navel to proclaim his position as a mining camp cook.

 

 _Oh, Mahal below,_ Ori thought as the brothers turned to look as him. _No wonder Fili was worried. The Broadbeams look out for family with a great deal of intensity, and Bofur has reason enough to distrust nobledwarrows._ The look on their faces reminded Ori of when they spoke about a strike they were involved in organizing. Ori remembered how they had distrusted the intent of the noble who was trying to appease the workers, and his offers for reconciliation. Bofur’s narrowed eyes eased when he saw Ori, and his expression morphed into a smile.

 

Bofur bypassed Dwalin completely to wrap Ori up in a quick one-armed hug. “I’d not a clue you’d be here for dinner, little scribe, or I’d have brought some coal for ye and yer brothers,” he said.

 

Dwalin glared at him, though he didn’t move to separate the two.

 

“I’d no clue Frerin was courting your Amifur or else I might have sent word. I guess after all the f— the drama around getting married left me with my head half off,” Ori replied.

 

“Married? Which of the sons of Fundin has that honour? I’d bet the guard -- see the look he’s giving my brother,” Bombur joked. Bofur held his hands up in a show of peace to Dwalin.

 

“I’d not be interested in this fellow beyond his ability with the quill, so ye don’t need t’ fuss. If he’d had twenty or thirty more years on him, though, I might have given you a run for yer money,” Bofur said with a wink.

 

Dwalin glared, then schooled his features into an indifferent expression. “I’ve got the means to care for him in the way he deserves; not something many in Dale can lay claim to,” Dwalin replied. Balin rolled his eyes, and Dis stepped in before more words could be exchanged.

 

“Dwalin, do you remember Bifur, son of Stromfur? I believe he fought under your command when you tried to rescue Thrain from the orcs who killed Mother,” Dis asked, her voice catching when she spoke of her mother. At the sound of his name, Bifur turned, making the axe embedded in his skull apparent. Bifur’s eyes widened as he saw Dwalin and he scrambled to stand up and hold a closed fist over his heart in a salute to his former commander.

 

Dwalin broke into a wide grin and strode across the room. He pulled Bifur into a tight hug, lifting him off the ground slightly. He placed Bifur back down on the ground gently, then ghosted one hand over the injury.

 

“I had no idea you’d survived, the healers told me ye wouldn’t make it through the night,” Dwalin said, his eyes darting from the injury and back to Bifur’s face.

 

Bifur replied first in gruffly mumbled Khuzdul, then with iglishmek when he saw no understanding on Dwalin’s face.

 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand ye,” Dwalin said ruefully, “though I’m good at soldier’s iglishmek. My mining iglishmek is hit and miss. My father was never one for mining, so I never did rounds down there as a lad. I’ll take it this is the lasting price for survivin’ that injury?”

 

Bifur smiled wanly, then signed what Ori assumed meant what Dwalin knew was good enough. Dwalin moved to sit near Bifur, and Frerin sent him a look of gratitude.

 

Ori sat on the other side of Dwalin, and leaned on him slightly as he said, in halting old Khuzdul “I’m glad to see you again, and to see you are in better health than last winter.”

 

“I’m glad to see you well, though I’m sad to hear you’ve left Dale. It will be hard to find a scribe who can write letters for me, as most who speak as I do charge far more than we can afford,” Bifur said in fluid, old Khuzdul.

 

Ori frowned, then said, “If your daughter is to marry Frerin, I’m sure the, ah--” Ori paused for a moment, trying to recall what word he needed, “ah - friendship - between his family and Dwalin’s will mean we will see each other again. I would happily write letters for free, now that I have a more secure place of employment.”

 

Bifur beamed at Ori, and said, “Thank you for that. I’m having one of my better days, if you speak to me in the common language, I’ll understand you. You needn’t restrict yourself to this clunky old tongue,” then turned to his cousins, making signs Ori barely understood, saying something about moving up and marriage, while Bofur and Bombur watched intently.

 

Amifer spoke next, asking, “Ori, do you get back much to visit Dori? He was always about like a mother hen. It must be hard, to ‘ave lost the chance to keep at it now that yer all grown and married.”

 

“Yes. We were visiting for tea just yesterday, and we plan to visit once a week at least. We - ah - we eloped rather recently, you see. Dwalin’s promised to drop me off when he has night shifts in Dale, so I can have dinner with my brothers,” Ori replied, glancing over at Dwalin with a quick smile.

 

Amifur gave her father a meaningful look, which he huffed at. She then turned to her cousins and said, “I doubt Frer would act that different from Master Dwalin, yez two don’t need to be worried about him locking me up like some brood-mare.”

 

Ori felt Dwalin stiffen against him, and he darted his eyes to Dwalin’s face to see his jaw was clenched. Dwalin’s eyes met his own, and Ori saw Dwalin relax his features. When Ori turned back to the room, he saw everyone’s eyes were on Amifur, who was signing quickly with her father. Ori could make out something about meeting before, but their hands moved too quickly for him to understand.

 

Dwalin interrupted them briefly, to say out loud, “Ye needn’t call me Master anything. Yer father saved my life, there’s no need for formalities here.”

 

Amifer thanked him, then went back to conversing with her father. Finally, Bifur ended his conversation with Amifur with a sharp nod, and then turned to Dwalin, and began signing too fast for Ori to pick up anything. Ori looked away, resigned with being left out, only to have Bofur catch his eye and wink.

 

“Bifur’s asking what kind of dwarrow Frerin is -- he wants to know how many dams he’s been with, how hard he works, that sort of thing.”

 

“I’m surprised, laddie, that you can’t understand iglishmek. For someone so bright, I’d have thought you’d be better than most,” Bombur said, and Ori turned to look at him.

 

“Mum never taught me, Dori didn’t have much time to - he thought teaching me writing was more important because he wanted me to make a living at scrivening - and Nori mostly knew stuff that wasn’t suitable for polite company. I’ve managed to pick a bit up here and there, but it’s not the same as having it around at home.” Ori shrugged, not really seeing anything further to explain.

 

Bombur smiled at him with the kind of sad smile Ori thought of as a ‘the poor lad’ smile. Ori looked back over at Dwalin and swallowed tightly around the lump in his throat. _Dori did the best he could. Not knowing the signs to speak quietly isn’t the worst that could have happened in a life like ours._ Ori might have explained that, if they were all back in Dale, but he wasn’t going to say as much with princes in the room with him.

 

Before either of the brothers could say anything further about Ori’s family or training, Amifur interrupted, “Not that he needs t’ be askin’ about him. You’ve all met him before. He’s come by for dinner often enough, and I’ve made my decision.”

 

Dis nodded in agreement. Ori suspected that it had less to do with loyalty to her brother and more to do with her agreement about Amifur having the final say, a luxury Dis never had.

 

Ori, caught up in his conversation with the other dwarrows, missed most of the iglishmek conversation Dwalin had with Bifur. He turned back to see the tail end of their exchange.

 

Bifur thanked him for his answer - that much Ori knew - and looked at Frerin with a thoughtful look.

 

“He can mean it all he wants, and want to stay true to Amifur but that don’t mean he’ll be allowed to once his brother takes the throne,” Bofur said to Bombur in a low voice.

 

“He’s agreed to forfeit his place in line. Thorin’s been planning to have one of his sister sons as his heir, and Frerin abdicating makes that final,” Dis said, looking at her son instead of Bofur.

 

“He must be in love, then,” Bifur said, his hands moving in time with his words. Frerin offered a tentative smile and a small nod. Dis cleared her throat and announced her intention to check on supper. Soon after she entered the kitchen, Kili came out. With a wink at Ori, he went and grabbed his brother to collect him on behalf of their mother.

 

Ori leaned into Dwalin, and felt him stiffen at the contact. Everyone else in the room missed the interaction, because at that moment, Thorin walked in. He gave Bifur, Bofur and Bombur a soldier’s greeting, and bowed deeply before Amifur. She gave Bifur a crooked smile, and said quietly in ancient Khuzdul, “He has pretty manners for a noble.”

 

Her father grinned at her, as Thorin watched them, looking at their faces for a hint of what was said.

 

Thorin pulled a chair over to sit by Bombur and Bofur. Ori didn’t pay much attention to what they spoke of, because Amifur began speaking with him.

 

“Did you get each other’s meaning wrong, when you first started courting? Frer and I had our share of mixups,” she asked. She smiled at Dwalin, inviting him to comment as well. Dwalin stayed silent, so Ori answered.

 

“We had our share of mixups. Though, well, you see,” Ori stumbled over his words, trying to stay as honest as he possibly could. “You’ve met my brothers with Dori being so, well, protective, and Nori being _Nori_ , our courtship was rather quick. I didn’t speak of it to them until after we were married.”

 

“I don’t suppose that’s where the bruise on yer husband’s eye is from?” Amifur asked, eyeing Dwalin’s bruise.

 

“He’d have given me one fer courting Ori regardless,” Dwalin began, and Ori nodded in agreement.

 

“And - well, ye see, Nori - uh,” Dwalin paused, and Ori could tell he had difficulty finding a lie to cover Nori being arrested for the thirteenth time.

 

“Nori forced the issue, so we decided to elope and that solved the problem he raised,” Ori finished diplomatically.

 

“Ye know, elopin’ seems like it would solve a lot of my problems with over-protective brothers too,” Amifer said thoughtfully. Her father didn’t find the comment that amusing, based on the sharp movement he made when he replied in iglishmek.

 

“If ye keep on raising a fuss like you have been, I might start considerin’ it more strongly, Da,” she replied out loud, with matching iglishmek. Given how she snickered once she was done speaking, Ori wondered how whether she was serious, or just trying to get a rise out of her father. _The Broadbeams are all rather stubborn when it comes to following through on their choices. If they set their mind to do something, they’d see it through to the end_ , Ori thought to himself. _Though sometimes it’s like they set a pick in their foot when they make a rash decision and refuse to change their mind._

 

Dis returned from the kitchen, smiling to see her eldest brother had arrived. She announced dinner was ready, and moved into the dining room to begin setting food out. Dwalin mumbled something about Ori sitting with Fili and Kili before sitting himself between Balin and Bifur. Ori smiled as though nothing was wrong as he went to sit by Dis’ sons. The Broadbeams seemed too intent on speaking with Frerin to notice the seating arrangement, but Balin raised one eyebrow at his brother. Dwalin’s only reply was to avoid making eye contact with either Ori or Balin. As Dis served dinner, she paused when she came by Ori’s chair.

 

“Do you need to talk about anything?” she asked quietly into his hair. Ori shook his head.

 

“It’s just a minor tiff. We’ll have it worked out by tomorrow. It’s a bit personal, it has to do with Nori,” he replied in an equally low voice. Fili and Kili overheard the exchange, but Ori was fairly confident no one else would. Dis continued on as though they’d never spoken.

 

Dinner with the miners was, for once, something Ori had more experience with than his peers. He’d written out wills for illiterate miners as an apprentice in exchange for dinner to take some of the strain off of Dori. Those skilled enough to have items to pass down often had more on their tables than a house with two apprentices and a tradeless dwarrow, and Ori had always eaten well.

 

They were also much louder and messier about how they ate than his prim eldest brother. Nori kept neat table manners out of vanity, and it was one of the few things Dori had pride in, as it was one of his few successes in teaching Nori. Ori wondered if they would engage in the usual celebratory practices he’d had the luck to partake in a few times (fortunately without Dori there to be horrified), and he did not have to wonder for long.

 

He saw Fili’s and Kili’s eyes widen when Dwalin instigated the revelry by throwing a potato at Bombur, who caught it with his mouth. Bifur slapped Dwalin on the shoulder and babbled out something about Dwalin remembering how to show _proper_ respect for a cook. Dwalin didn’t seem to understand Bifur’s arcane dialect -- _which, really, I should be sitting with him to translate_ , Ori thought with frustration as Bifur repeated his words in iglishmek.

 

“I still eat often with the rest of the city guards. We’ve had enough mining lads come through the army and the city guard to have learned how to show our love for a cook with _feeling_ ,” Dwalin replied with an easy grin. Balin shook his head, then sighed.

 

Bofur tossed a hunk of bread towards Bifur, who caught it in one hand and began to tear into it with his teeth. Frerin hesitantly tossed an apple towards Amifur, who vigorously threw half a sausage back. The miners dug in with enthusiasm, food flying back and forth whenever they found it worth sharing. This meant everything Dis put out was airborne at some point or another.

 

Thorin sent a stern look towards his nephews, who ignored him. With twin grins, they joined in the mining tradition, with matching skill at getting the food towards the person they wished to share with, which was more than could be said of some of Bombur’s throws.

 

Dis looked over at Dwalin with worry, who mouthed back, “this is good”. Her anxious lip bite morphed into a small smile, and she loaded some mashed potatoes onto a spoon, which she used to catapult them at her curmudgeonly brother.

 

After dinner, Thorin gestured for silence. The clanging of plates against cutlery ceased, as did the loud conversation.

 

“Bifur, as I remember, you saved Dwalin, and the healers were not sure if you would survive,” Thorin paused, looking pensive. Bifur signed that it was what any dwarrow would have done in the situation.

 

“We returned to the tent where we’d last seen you, only to find that you’d been moved. At the time, we’d feared that you were dead. The nearest healer hadn’t known what had become of you, which only seemed to confirm our worst fear. You took a blow that would have been a death blow to my dearest and oldest friend,” Thorin continued. He spent a moment looking first at Bifur, then at Dwalin.

 

“In thanks, I wish to grant you deeds to a home in the inner part of Erebor, along with an area of the mines that have been attached to the ownership of that home.”

 

“Did yer grandfather agree to that?” Bombur asked.

 

“When Dis had Fili, one condition for allowing her to remain under the mountain was that she lost the property and a great deal of the gold and gems that was to be hers, among other conditions. That property was transferred to me, as the heir. As such, it is mine to do with as I please.” He turned to Bifur. “You saved my closest friend, and I am rewarding you with property in Erebor, as well as mining rights attached to that property. You need not worry Thror will argue with me on this.”

 

The room was silent for a moment, and Ori saw Amifur look to the ground in a silent prayer to Mahal. Soon after the room broke out in noise, with Bifur protesting in iglishmek and ancient Khuzdul that such a prize was not required for merely doing one’s duty. Bombur and Bofur, however, had a very different qualm.

 

“Our sister isn’t some - some prize to be bought off with riches! What you gift our cousin won’t make up her mind in the matter,” Bofur said loudly.

 

Kili leaned over to Ori and asked quietly, “You know them, right? I thought they were her cousins, not her brothers.”

 

“They are, but there’s a bit more to it than that,” Ori explained in a low voice. “Their mother had died soon after Bombur was born, so their father went to live with Bifur, and they were raised with Amifur as siblings. When the war came, Bifur and their father went off to fight together, but when Bifur came back and their father didn’t, Bifur said they could call Amifur their sister, if they wanted to. They were brothers and sister in all but blood anyway, but I think he wanted them to know he wasn’t going to kick them out.”

 

While Ori explained this to Kili, Amifer hissed at Bofur to be silent and replied, “Aye, and my mind’s made up. Whether he gifts Da a way for him to make a living without being down in the mines working hours that make his speakin’ worse, it don’t matter to me.”

 

Bofur quieted down, shamefaced. “Yer right, tis your choice at the end of the day. But ye can’t fault us for worryin, not with, well, ye know what happened with ol’ Alinom’s daughter.”

 

Dis gave Frerin a meaningful look. When Thorin saw his sister, he locked eyes with Frerin, then gestured his head towards Bofur. Frerin, catching on, spoke to Bofur.

 

“My father was true to my mother until his last breath. He loved her deeply, and was willing to give his life in an attempt to take her back. He is the kind of husband I hope to be, and that I have been taught to be. I know my reputation is for being carefree, indecisive, and feckless. And I don’t know what it’s like to live without my title as prince. But Amifur,” he paused and looked over at her with a soft smile, “she is honest with me in a way I rarely hear. She doesn’t find it odd that a son of the royal house has a preference for finding metals over working with them. She can tell the difference between when I’ve got a new excitement, and when I’ve made serious goal, sometimes even before I have. I can think of no one better to build a life with, and I’m more than happy to give up my titles to do so.”

 

There was silence, when Frerin was done. Bofur tugged on one of his braids thoughtfully, his previous frown turned into a soft smile. Bombur signed something Ori couldn’t make out to either his cousin or sister.

 

Amifur reached for Frerin’s hand and gave her father a look that Ori knew from experience usually accompanied, “I told you, didn’t I?”

 

Frerin’s own family were surprised by the depth of his speech. Dis whispered something into Thorin’s ear. Fili leaned over to Ori and said in a quiet voice, “Unlike other dams, he never went on about her. He only mentioned her a few times to me. I’d thought that meant he wasn’t all that serious, but I suppose I just didn’t know what he’s like when he’s acting like a proper adult.”

 

From the glare Frerin sent Fili’s way, it was clear Fili was not as quiet as he’d intended.

 

Kili snickered and said, “You know it’s true, uncle.”

 

Thorin met Bifur’s eyes before speaking again.  “As for Bifur’s insistence that what he did was not enough,“ Thorin began, then paused. He gritted his teeth, then continued, “I know it may not mean much to you, but many in my life are not honest. I suspect you think all nobles are not. Many want to be friends with _a prince_ , which is not the same as being a true friend to me. Dwalin has been since we were smooth-skinned and fumbling with wooden swords, and he will be until we draw our last breaths. It cost Brimbur his life, and nearly cost Bifur his. I’d not risk Mahal’s ire by not honouring such a sacrifice.” Thorin finished somberly.

 

Dis spoke soon after, “Bifur, you’re a courageous and loyal dwarrow. There’s nothing Thorin would value more. What better a thing to toast to than to Dwalin and Thorin finding out you lived still, and the joining of our two families?”

 

Dis raised her glass in a toast, and the rest soon followed.

 

The drinking continued on into the evening, but Ori noticed Dwalin was slow to finish his tankard, and by the time other Dwarves were drunk, he was merely tipsy. Ori, however, hadn’t been quite as prudent and felt a dizzy when it came time to stand.

 

Ori followed Dwalin home, leaving Balin to help Thorin hash out the marriage contract. The pair walked in silence, Dwalin keeping his distance from Ori. Once the door to the apartments closed behind them, Ori, emboldened by the ale he’d drank earlier that evening, began to speak.

 

“You can’t keep acting like you have been. Everyone thinks this is a love match, and it’s my reputation on the line if you’re unhappy this early in the marriage. I know the circumstances are not what you’d want, but the least you could do is pretend as I have been.”

 

Dwalin turned around and blinked. He stared at Ori for a long moment, and then asked, “What do ye mean, your reputation will suffer?”

 

  “People will think I tricked you into marrying me and now you’re unhappy, or that I’m a terrible husband.”

 

“I - I had not considered that,” Dwalin said, looking away. Ori sighed loudly, feeling himself deflate.

 

“I’m going to bed, I’ve had too much to drink. If it would help you, we can talk over arrangements with your brother as we did with mine.”

 

Dwalin shrugged, then said, “I hope ye sleep well, Ori.”

 

He watched Ori as the scribe went to his room and closed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as many of you might have noticed, I went on an unannounced hiatus a long while ago. I was struggling depression and anxiety, and it impacted more of my life than just fandom. It feels like I lost a year to my depression and anxiety. I'm sorry I didn't update to let people know I wasn't going to be able to continue posting until I was back in good health. I'm still feeling like I'm on the mend, so I can't promise regular updates, but I will do my best to continue writing this story.
> 
> For people who left comments, I'm sorry I didn't reply. I just really wasn't in a place where I could really communicate what was going on or make any promises about when I'd start writing again.


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